


Safeguard

by tenuous_pteradatyl (orphan_account)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Bandits & Outlaws, Bar Room Brawl, Battle Couple, Bonding, Bounty Hunters, California, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Memories, Comfort, Coping, Deals, Desert, Dreams, Drinking, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Family Angst, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Issues, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Memories, Mild Blood, Music, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, On the Run, Panic, Panic Attacks, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Redemption, Romance, Running Away, Self-Acceptance, Shame, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Travel, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Wanderlust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-09 17:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 36,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11673483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/tenuous_pteradatyl
Summary: Looking for solace after dispatching the clan elders Hanzo leaves Hanamura and travels out to California. After a great deal of wandering, he finds himself in a small town and enters the local bar only to meet a strange man by the name of McCree. After helping him flee from what seems to be a random attack, Hanzo escorts McCree back to his hideout, not entirely sure what he’s stumbled into, or what it is about the gunslinger that puts him off.





	1. Chapter 1

The man had only just died. Moments before they had been locked in heated combat, the fierce and quick movements of the assassin’s sword answered by the steady twang of his bow. Until finally he had collapsed by the side of the road, impaled twice in the stomach and once in the neck, his bloodshot eyes turned towards the sky. Hanzo’s fingers feel along his throat for a pulse, his skin still slick with blood. Nothing, just as he expected. He wiped his hands in the dirt, brushing them off before rising to his feet, surveying the area with a quick motion of his head. Hanzo hadn’t expected them to find him here, and that was precisely the problem, he hadn’t thought of it. He had merely assumed in his hurried exodus from the castle that no one would follow him, that there would be no further retribution for his treachery, that he had covered his tracks well enough. He should have never assumed that those brutal attacks, championed by enraged clan members and vengeful family back in Hanamura would be the end of the fighting. What he had done would have constituted an act of war back when the clan was still young and the only available weapons were swords and the lengthy gleaming spears that still hung on the wall of his father’s study. It was an unforgivable offense, one that would follow him till the assassins finished their work or death took him. He inhaled deeply through his nose and closed his eyes trying to center himself, reacquaint himself with the present. He looked around, nothing for miles save for dust and sand. Vultures already circled high overhead, their red faces instantly recognizable. It was almost cliche’ how quickly they appeared, alerted by the smell of fresh blood and the pungent scent of death that hung in the air. 

 

He knelt down again pulling at the shafts of his arrows. They broke easily in his hand as he walked several feet away and tossed them to the ground covering them with dirt a moment later. The clan’s assassins didn’t usually travel in pairs but if anyone else were to stumble upon him the wounds shouldn’t quickly alert them to the method of his death. He briefly considered burying him but he didn’t have time to dig an appropriately sized hole nor the energy to try to drag his body elsewhere. He looked around again, suddenly acutely aware that perhaps he had spent too much time in one place already. He gave the man one last look, his eyes roving over his features briefly before he continued making his way down the road, content to let the vultures have their meal. 

 

He briskly strode along the side of the highway. The afternoon sun already high in the sky, the heat nearly unbearable. He quickly remembered why he had always preferred winter, the chill in the air and the occasional chance of snow a welcome reprieve from the arid winds and the mass of insects brought on by the yearly heat wave. He had laid in bed many mornings only to be greeted by the sound of the cicadas, their incessant humming dragging on for hours until he was finally forced to leave the quiet of his room and venture out into the streets. He let his mind linger on those summer nights back home, sitting in his room as the sky grew dark and the birds sang tender songs. He would listen intently to their soft music as the first stars came into view and the scent of jasmine wafted gently on the breeze. Sometimes he would even leave the comfort of his room, stealing outside with his telescope to chart the course of the stars as they traversed the night sky. He never knew where Genji was at that time, he had always assumed he was out with friends raising hell somewhere, and making a general mockery of everything they stood for. Hanzo let the bitterness of that thought quickly recede replacing it instead with a memory of the time their father had first taken them stargazing. He had only been 8 at the time, but he clearly remembered the sense of excitement he felt as their father led them out of the castle and into the countryside, the sky overhead replete with stars. They had spent several hours atop a secluded hill, his father rattling off the names of more constellations than he could count while Genji fell asleep in the grass just as he had pulled out the telescope. His father had let him sleep content to let him quietly snore as he covered him with a blanket. “I suppose it’s just you and me”, his father said with a warm smile.

 

“That’s fine, this way he won’t hog the telescope like he does everything else”, Hanzo said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

 

“You have been known to hog some things as well my son, baked goods for instance.” 

 

“I do not”, Hanzo retorted, petulant. 

 

“I recall you stuffing an entire piece of cake in your mouth and then refusing to share any with the rest of us.” 

 

“It was my birthday”, Hanzo protested. 

 

“Even so”, his father replied with a faint smirk. 

 

Hanzo elbowed him, his father fell sideways closing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest as if he were being laid to rest. “Too strong”, he groaned dramatically. Genji woke a moment later, only to briefly look around with half lidded eyes before dozing off again. Hanzo let the memory quickly fade, a stab of guilt quickly overtaking him. He tried to shake it off as he continued to walk, trying to distract himself with the landscape. It didn’t help for long, the plain was relatively stark save for the occasional cactus and the brush that stretched out over the horizon giving way to the peaks of mountains off in the distance. He looked ahead his eyes focusing on a bus stop, its shelter covered in poorly done graffiti and a fine layer of dust. He quickly ducked under the rooftop reveling in the shade for a moment before looking to his phone and waiting for a bus to arrive. 

 

Moments later a bus rolled up, appearing like a phantom from within the depths of an abrupt cloud of dust and sand. Old, weather beaten, and heavily chromed it slowly pulled up in front of him, its door swinging open to allow several people off before Hanzo made his way up the narrow stairs and threw his change into the receptacle. He gave a heavy sigh as he finally dropped into his seat, his bag with storm bow securely tucked inside carefully placed next to him, deterring any passengers from inching too close. He looked out the window the sudden haze of reddish orange dust gone as quickly as it came. Hanzo watched as the landscape quickly passed by, everything blurring into one indistinguishable vista stripped bare of vegetation. He inhaled again his thoughts pulling him back to the assassin now lying dead by the side of the road the vultures no doubt already congregating around him. If there was one assassin there were bound to be more. He understood why. Killing the clan elders was a high ranking offense punishable only by death. Whether it was by the hands of hired killers or the loved ones of those that had fallen to his sword, his crimes would not go unpunished. 

 

The memory of that last struggle before he had fled replayed in his mind as it had for weeks after. The castle had been dark and for days the clan had been whipped into a frenzy all too certain that one of their own was slowly destroying their council but had yet to find the culprit. He had taken pride in being able to successfully cover his tracks though he was certain that everyone would learn the truth that night as he made the slow walk to his father’s study where the remaining council member; Eiji, sat behind a well-guarded door. He silently berated himself again even all this time for not making sure he had effectively killed all the guards. One of the stragglers had managed to pull himself up and alert the others to his treachery. However, by the time he had convinced enough people and gathered an adequate group to accompany him, it was too late and he was already gone. 

 

The fight between him and Eiji had been relatively short. He had calmly strode in the room arrow already nocked only to look over and see him sitting at his father’s desk. He had risen slowly from his seat unsheathing his sword with a look of disappointment on his face. Though it had seemed that Eiji had been more interested in talking as he launched into a long diatribe, accusing him of betraying his father’s memory and destroying everything he had worked for. He had borne his barbs silently not once responding instead focusing his anger and bitter hatred into each shot loosed from his bow. The unencumbered roars of Eiji’s dragon momentarily startled him but he recovered quickly as he silently focused and summoned his own, their appearance heralded by a burst of blue flames and thunderous cries. They made quick work of Eiji’s dragon, strangling the life out it until it’s form hung limply in their maws. He had finished his task while they fought over who would be the first to devour it, ignoring their incensed bellows as he dealt the final blow and he let his bow noisily clatter to the floor, weary beyond all reason and numb to all sensation.

 

Several moments later he looked up to see the door swing open. It was Takeda, his father’s closest subordinate. He had been around for as long as he could remember, acting as more of an extension of the immediate family rather than just a business associate. Takeda looked at him, his expression, as usual, unreadable as he silently came into the room, calmly observing the blood that stained the floor and Eiji’s body lying supine by the desk. Takeda’s eyes focused on him then, his expression more curious than accusatory. “What are you going to do now?”, he asked quietly.

 

“You are not going to turn me in?”, Hanzo asked coolly, sincerely hoping he didn’t notice the sudden trembling of his hands. 

 

Takeda snorted. “Of course not”, he answered simply. “But I’m the exception, not the rule. There will be a lot of people after your head for this.”

 

“They may attempt it if they wish.” 

 

Takeda gave him a look that clearly stated that he wasn’t convinced with his bravado but said nothing further on the matter. He merely walked over to Eiji closing his eyes with a quick motion of his hand. “Where will you go?”, he asked as he rose to his feet.

 

“I’m not certain”, Hanzo conceded after several long moments of thought. 

 

“It will have to be far wherever it is.” 

 

“You cannot give me any suggestions?” 

 

“I'm afraid not. But if you need any help getting there I will be more than happy to assist you.” 

 

Hanzo nodded, his eyes roving over his handiwork his thoughts suddenly turning to Genji. He shook his head briefly before answering “I need a flight.” 

 

“To where?” 

 

“The US”, he replied.

 

That’s how he had ended up here. That’s how he had found himself wandering through the desert with an assassin close on his heels. Because he wanted to get away, outrun his guilt, jettison his shame, forsake his past altogether. He should have known it would take more than new surroundings and a change in clothes to really leave it behind. It had followed him here, chasing him through gorges and unnamed towns with crowds of faceless strangers until he had finally tired of the chase and done what he had been trained to do. His father had told him countless times that if he did his job right, that if he instructed his men well enough he wouldn’t have to use that training in the first place. That he would be spared the burden of killing someone. He had never thought much of his words at the time, and he certainly hadn’t thought that his first kill would be his own brother.

 

His grip on his seat tightened. The memory of that abominable night coming unbidden to his mind. The anger, the pain, the fear, and finally the betrayal in Genji’s eyes. Duty had dictated that he do away with whatever threatened the clan’s well being but his heart had ached as he had made the first cuts. Their fight hadn’t lasted long. While Genji had chased after men and women and a carefree life he had been busy honing his skills, perfecting his craft until his arms were sore and his fingers were heavily calloused. It was just another point of contention he realized as their struggle began and a cacophony of conflicting opinions ran through his head. It wasn’t Genji’s fault things had turned out this way, he should have been helping you, he could have easily fallen in line with what the clan demanded of him instead he left you to weather it all alone. “And now I truly am alone”, he thought bitterly. “You could have let Genji live. Instead, you saw fit to kill him”, nagged an insipid voice in the back of his mind. He desperately tried to pay it no heed but its declarations became more persistent until he was trying to drown out the noise with the steady humming of the man sitting in front of him. He tried to focus on the agitated rumble of the bus as it sped over the road, with the incessant squeak of the door as it jutted and rocked with every bump and dive. He took a deep shuddering breath trying to ground himself in the moment, ignore the guilt that seemed ready to tear him apart. Would it have been so bad to let Genji live? What would his father think of his choices? 

 

He could almost see the look of disappointment on his face. He could almost hear his voice, so similar to his own, berating him for what he had done. Hanzo had imagined that same scenario countless times, always hoping for a better outcome but many of those imagined scenes came to an abrupt halt with his father turning his back on him, disowning him altogether. “Your mother would weep if she were alive to see you now, to see what you’ve done”, stated that illusionary version of his father, a clear look of disgust in his eyes. He knew it wasn’t real, it was merely a figment of his fevered imagination, a phantom of the past. But he couldn’t help the feeling that maybe it was true. That if his parents were still alive they would be deeply disappointed in him and perhaps the misfortunes he had faced were some kind of payback for his misdeeds. Even if that wasn’t the case he deserved everything that had happened to him he thought. Even his ploy to kill the elders did nothing to alleviate his guilt, nor dissipate the unbearable sadness of killing Genji. As he sat on the plane to New York, his eyes focused on the ground below as the patchwork of emerald green fields and long winding roads gave way to small inlets and finally an expanse of seemingly endless ocean he wondered why in the midst of such unfathomable sadness he felt a twinge of anger. Amongst the myriad of emotions that plagued him; the anger seemed the most misplaced. The few times it made sense was when thoughts of the first few moments of his battle with Genji came to mind.

 

He had been sent over the edge, so easily, so quickly. Years of built up tension and resentment finally overflowing into an outpouring of rage that he couldn’t easily stem. Until finally with one blow he had ended the struggle, pinning Genji to the floor of the castle with his sword. He had left him then to bleed out, and Genji had spent those next few moments spewing obscenities and cursing his name. Demanding with increasingly shallow breaths and shaky words that he return to the room. But he couldn’t bring himself to. He had walked for long minutes after that, blindly striding out into the courtyard Genji’s blood still wet on his clothes. He leaned against one of the trees for support, trying to wrap his head around what had just taken place as Genji’s screams carried outside, assaulting his ears. He gritted his teeth as tears came unbidden to his eyes and he covered his ears with shaking hands until finally, everything went silent.

 

He didn’t dare go back to that room. Instead, he took the long way back to his quarters, shedding his shirt as he went. Once he made it to his room he threw his sword down it clattered loudly against the floor still heavily stained with Genji’s blood. He ignored it altogether, mechanically throwing several changes of clothes into a backpack and rustling through his closet for his bow and quiver. It had been several years since he had practiced archery but the mere thought of using the sword again made his skin crawl with revulsion. He had quickly left after that, his belongings in tow as he effortlessly scaled the wall without a thought and silently walked off into the night, the tears already dry on his face and the shaking in his hands slowly beginning to subside.

 

Hanzo wondered briefly how long he would have to continue fighting off the remainders of his past if he could ever truly be free of it. That was all he wanted at this point. He had resigned himself to the immense and pervasive guilt of killing Genji the moment he had walked from the room and left him to die. He had realized quickly as he had made his way from New York to California that there was no remedy for it. After all this time spent running, he just wished to be left alone. To have some small place free from any and all reminders of the clan and if he had to fight for it, he was more than willing to. He didn’t expect happiness, that was a concept that he knew he could never truly possess. But at the very least he could pretend, play at being content if only for a little while.

 

His was the last stop. He clambered down the steps and onto the side of the road exhausted from the heat and his eyes sore from the glare of the sun. The bus drove off in the opposite direction its fluorescent green sign reading; bus yard. He watched it move down the highway for a moment his thoughts once again in a state of upheaval. Would it have been better to stay in Hanamura? Was it even a life worth salvaging? And then a firm answer. No, even if you wanted to, you can’t return there. And then more questions; what’s left for me? Where can I go? This time he had no answers to give to those fervent inquiries. Hanzo shook his head, he needed to focus on the task at hand and that was looking for food and a place to stay for the night. He looked around, conveniently the bus had dropped him in a small town. “Ridiculously small”, he thought. It seemed you could amble through town and be walking out of it within a few short minutes. He thought he could even make out the outskirts from where he stood next to the worn and battered welcome sign. He decided not to dwell on it long, instead, he let his eyes travel over the weathered buildings and noticed a bar only a few feet away.

 

It was almost cliche’ in its details he thought. From the impossibly long line of motorcycles that were stationed in its small parking lot to the tall cacti that sat beside the weather beaten wooden facade. He contemplated waiting for another bus but he could use a drink to take the edge off and this seemed to be the only option. He stepped inside, immediately aware of several pairs of eyes on him. He already knew he must look fairly conspicuous, walking around with a cello case on his back. But he had hoped that by losing his kyudo-gi he wouldn’t stand out as much, shedding his traditional garb for a plain white t-shirt, dark blue jeans, and boots. He chose to ignore it that eerie sensation of being watched as he discreetly took in the rest of his surroundings. There weren’t many people here at this hour, several men sat huddled together under a painting of coyotes running through a vast forest offset by the moon. A man sat by the battered jukebox, his hat lowered over his eyes, his head hung low as if he were asleep, legs propped up on a nearby table. No sign yet of anyone who looked to be with the clan but he knew he couldn’t afford to stay long. 

 

He set his case down on the floor, his quiver still on his back for easy access. Hanzo considered the notion that perhaps he was being paranoid but considering the presence of that assassin he thought that perhaps there was no harm in being a little more cautious. He quickly shook off his anxiety and ordered a shot of vodka. The bartender, a younger looking man with his arms covered from shoulder to wrists in a colorful array of tattoos gave him a terse nod before pouring him his vodka and sliding it down the expanse of the bar to him. He caught it before it sped past him happy to put his mind on something else. He downed the shot quickly the burn of the alcohol jolting his senses. He considered ordering another round but thought better of it, he needed to be alert for whatever came next. It was for that exact reason that he had abandoned his flask of sake some weeks ago. He had been relying on it too heavily, his fingers continually itching to have it in his grasp, his eyes darting back to it during simple tasks, his thoughts continually drawn to it. He had left it back at the castle with the rest of his belongings. His books, pictures of his family, notebooks with precise penmanship detailing the early years of his life. A telescope his father had given him when he had turned 10, a brightly colored plaid jacket that his mother had purchased for him with a wide grin back in Harajuku, a drawing Genji had made for him at the tender age of 6, and a plethora of other things he’s sure he’s forgotten. 

 

A moment later he was broken from his reverie by the bartender asking him about his bill. He looked up, momentarily startled, but recovered quickly reaching for his wallet in his back pocket. He frowned, not enough to cover his tab, unfortunately. He knew he had been running low on funds but he hadn’t realized until this moment how dire the situation had become. He met the bartender’s eyes, ready to explain his situation but before he could he heard a low voice to the right of him say “Don’t sweat it, I got ya’ covered.” 

 

He looked over to see a man clad in a green flannel shirt, blue jeans, and boots. He’s tall with broad shoulders and a fairly muscular build and a mechanized arm that glinted briefly under the dim lights. A cigarette hung from his mouth and a cowboy hat sat atop his head. If he wasn’t mistaken this was the same man who had been sitting by the jukebox only moments before. The stranger flashed him a quick smile and ordered them both shots of whiskey. Hanzo took the glass, grateful but more than a little wary. “Thank you, but that was not necessary”, he said, eyeing the man as his fingers drummed against the tabletop with a barely restrained look of suspicion.

 

“Didn’t have to be”, the stranger replied, “Just being civil is all.” 

 

“I see, are all the patrons of this establishment so lucky?”, Hanzo asked raising a brow. 

 

“Depends on how much cash I’m packing. Can’t always play the knight in shining armor.”

 

“Am I to believe then that there is a steed somewhere?” 

 

“Naw had to put him out to pasture a couple years back”, the man answered with a wistful sigh, his gaze dropping to the tabletop. “Here’s to you Ace, you were one hell of a horse”, the man declared, holding up his glass after he removed his hat and quickly downed the shot. Hanzo watched him in silence, not even sure how to respond. The stranger set aside his empty glass and flashed him a brief but oddly warm smile. “Just pulling your leg partner”, he said, “Only steed I got is less equine and more of the automobile variety.”

 

Hanzo didn’t reply, instead deciding to knock back his shot, happy to have something to distract him from the way the conversation had twisted into something he couldn’t truly wrap his head around.

 

“The name’s McCree by the way”, the man said after a short stretch of silence, extending his hand made of flesh and blood.

 

Hanzo eyed his palm for a moment before finally giving his hand a quick but firm shake. He was feeling more off kilter with each passing minute and was beginning to seriously question why McCree was going out of his way to be so friendly. “Hanzo”, he answered, his tone slightly curt, he had nearly introduced himself with his last name. 

 

“Nice to meet ‘ya. Don’t think I’ve seen you around these parts, I would’ve remembered”, McCree said. 

 

Hanzo felt himself bristle at that remark, though he couldn’t place why. Perhaps it was the way his smile had grown somehow wider, his smooth voice dropping just an octave lower. “I am from out of town” he replied.

 

“That explains it, guess you’re just passing through then.” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Probably for the best, this ain’t really a great spot for sightseeing.” 

 

He went silent for a moment, considering his words and the endless stretches of sand under cerulean skies. “I admit that the landscape is stark, but there is a certain charm to the cactus and brittlebush. Even in a place that at first glance appears barren, there is still a great deal of beauty to be found.”

 

“Well now, listen to you. Not every day I hear somebody complimenting my home away from home. Most would just call it a dust bowl.” 

 

“It is an appropriate name, but even I am able to see that there is more to it than that. Though I could do without the heat.” 

 

“Can’t blame you for that, it does take some getting used to. So, what brings you out this way?” 

 

“Nothing important”, Hanzo answered quickly. 

 

McCree didn’t reply right away. He merely nodded before he said, “I hear ‘ya, just seems like the only time folks come out this way is when they’re trying to outrun something.” 

 

“Would that include yourself?”

 

“What do you think?”, he asked amicably.

 

Hanzo considered him then. His eyes roving over his features, the darkness of his eyes, the gentle rapping of his fingers against the wood of the table, the slow bobbing of his knee. “I think you are hiding something”, he said simply.

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

“Your body is tense. You have been bobbing your knee and tapping your fingers for the duration of our conversation as if you are anticipating something.” 

 

“Or I could just be itching for my next drink.”

 

“If that were the case you would have ordered yourself another round by now.”

 

“Damn, guess I won’t be pulling the wool over your eyes anytime soon.”

 

“It would seem that way.”

 

“So, what do you think I’m waiting on then?”

 

“A fight.” 

 

“You saying I look like trouble?” 

 

“The ocean is beautiful, but one does not have to be particularly clever to realize that it can be perilous.”

 

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were paying me a compliment”, McCree said with a salacious grin. 

 

Hanzo snorted. “What I am saying is that looks can be deceiving.”

 

“Can’t argue with you there, but I wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

 

“Perhaps not”, Hanzo said slowly, not truly convinced. 

 

“Gotta admit you’re pretty observant though. Most folks are usually more than happy to keep their heads down.”

 

“I have always been of the mind that it is important to know your surroundings. In a battle to have a grasp on the terrain is to know your opponent’s movements.”

 

“Never really thought of it that way. That’s some good perspective you got there.”

 

“Thank you”, Hanzo replied, before looking down to his empty glass. He frowned as he stared at it, wishing that he hadn’t drunk his shot so hastily. As much as he would like to blame the alcohol as the reason for his current state of agitation he didn’t think he could. Whether it was real or imagined, something about McCree put him off. Maybe it was the almost casual way he posed his questions, the lazy smile he kept giving him as they spoke, the notion that he was much more than he seemed, a wisp of smoke that could vanish just as abruptly as he appeared. Perhaps it was all of those things he theorized. Ultimately though he had a sneaking suspicion that it was the fact that he was so close he could smell the scent of smoke and pines on him, the warmth in that deep smooth voice, the line of his jaw covered in beard and stubble. He frowned, he could not afford to get attracted to anyone right now and certainly not when he was still on the run. It wasn’t something he deserved anyway. McCree didn’t pose any further questions, instead silently signaling the bartender for another round. “I am not sure I can accept this”, Hanzo said, ready to push the glass away.

 

“Suit yourself, just thought you might want another one the way you were eyeing that empty shot glass”, McCree said with a shrug. Hanzo frowned at him. “You ain’t the only one who can be observant”, he said with a wink. 

 

Hanzo gave him a blank stare before accepting the drink with a terse nod of his head. Just as he set the glass down he heard the sound of a gunshot. Before he could see which direction it had come from there came several more. He ducked down, looking over quickly to see that McCree had disappeared. He lamented his absence briefly before drawing out his bow from its case and quickly nocking an arrow. He crawled behind the bar, waiting for someone to appear as he heard glass break and pieces of furniture overturned as the other patrons shouted and scrambled for cover. Finally, he heard a man’s voice yell out “We know you’re in here if you don’t want these lovely people to be in the cross fire you’ll-”, the man’s words were cut off by a gunshot and the sound of a heavy thud confirmed that he had hit the floor. 

 

He quietly moved on his knees, looking around the counter, ready to fight if need be. To his surprise he sees McCree standing over the fallen man with a heavily polished revolver in his hand and a grim look in his eyes. He doesn’t have time to take in the scene for long before another attacker bursts through the door, leveling his gun to shoot McCree in the back. Quicker than he can think he’s twisted himself around the countertop and has angled his shot to hit the man square in the chest. The arrow hits its mark and immediately the man goes limp, falling to the floor with a loud thud. McCree spins around, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before they’re both ducking out of the way as the windows are suddenly blown out by rapid gunfire. McCree manages to run over and Hanzo pushes his head down as he ushers him behind the counter and out of sight. The shooting continues and he can’t help but grind his teeth in annoyance, they’re pinned down. McCree urgently tugs on his arm “Come on”, he shouts as he beckons for him to follow. Hanzo goes after him without a word, they crawl towards the back of the bar and see that the backdoor is slightly ajar. McCree sidles up to the door, peering out into the seemingly abandoned parking lot. Hanzo watches for signs of life behind him the shouts and yelps of panicked patrons the only sound he can hear other than the incessant rhythm of gunshots. 

 

Suddenly, he’s pushed from behind as one of the assailants runs through the door nearly sending McCree toppling over him. They both quickly regain their footing as he hears the fight ensue behind him. He doesn’t have time to look as another man comes from the opposite direction. He drops to the floor arrow already nocked, the man aims for him firing as he just manages to roll out of the way, the bullet grazing his shoulder. He’s back on his feet, knocking the gun from the man’s hand as he pushes him back. The man falls to the floor and before he can even recover he’s got his attacker pinned under his foot and has fired his shot. He doesn’t stop to watch the man die as he sees several more men rushing from the parking lot and to the open back door. He curses before nocking another arrow and firing past McCree, who only takes notice of the new threat as one of the men fall back, impaled in the chest. A fact that distracts McCree’s attacker just long enough so the gunslinger can punch him in the face. As he’s reeling back he reloads his gun and hastily shoots the other men before Hanzo can pull another arrow from his quiver. In the next instant, he’s pulling Hanzo through the exit. They go racing through the parking lot as he notices a jeep several feet away driving at them, kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake. He ignores it as he focuses his attention on McCree who yells at him from behind the wheel of an old pickup truck to get in. Hanzo doesn’t ask questions, there’s clearly no time. He jumps in the passenger seat as McCree takes the wheel and speeds out of the parking lot and onto the road. Hanzo grits his teeth as he hears the rev and roar of the jeep’s engine behind them. He buckles his seatbelt though he doubts it's even worth it at this point as his mind races with questions and harsh admonishments about his behavior. He questions as to why he was so talkative with McCree back at the bar, how this is most likely a bad idea, and wonders why these men are after McCree in the first place. 

 

Hanzo looks behind them as they continue to speed down the highway. Their pursuers have managed to gain on them in the last few minutes. McCree seems to notice as he speeds up, his foot on the gas nearly flush with the floor as they tear down the road. He grits his teeth, briefly wondering what he’s stumbled into as the radio blares Steppenwolf’s “Born to be Wild”. “How appropriate”, he thinks with a frown as McCree has the truck bobbing and weaving between invisible obstacles. He’s glad for it in a moment as he hears gunshots, he ducks down with McCree following suit. He notices the jeep pull alongside them and immediately he nocks arrow. There is a brief exchange of arrow for bullet. He hits his mark, the man in the passenger seat immediately slumping forward while his companion’s bullet lodges in McCree’s mechanized hand. He curses loudly, the wound already spilling what he can only assume to be a mixture of oil and blood onto the seat. The jeep falls behind as McCree tries to keep them on course though he is in obvious pain. They veer off the road entirely swerving across sand and gravel, the jeep is close behind them again, so close that they look ready to ram them as a last ditch effort. 

 

Hanzo looks to McCree, noting the way he has his hand cradled close to his chest, a steady stream of oil running down past his elbow and pooling at his feet. “Can you keep us straight for a moment?”, he asked calmly. 

 

“For what?”, McCree asked, sounding baffled. 

 

“I have a clear shot”, Hanzo explained, nocking an arrow. McCree didn’t ask further questions he merely evened out their course, somehow navigating a steady line across the rugged terrain. Hanzo wasted no time, quickly using his bow to break through the back window and line up the shot. He lets the arrow loose, as he knew it would, it hit its mark. The man instantly falls back his grip on the wheel lost completely. The jeep begins to sway, veering off to the left. He lets loose a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding as he takes his seat. McCree stops the truck, looking at him with something akin to admiration as he notices his hand, the stream of oil, stopped for the moment. He felt a momentary stab of guilt, perhaps if he had been faster then he wouldn’t have had to suffer the wound in the first place. He couldn’t dwell on it long, instead, he quickly looked around. They needed to find a place to lay low for a while and sadly there wasn’t much cover, sand, and sagebrush stretching for miles in every direction. 

 

He could only hope that the gunslinger had some place in mind as he removed his seatbelt and got out and made the quick walk over to the driver’s side and opened the door. McCree gave him a look of dismay which he blithely ignored. “Get out”, he said.

 

“What?”, McCree asked.

 

He was beginning to grow impatient, the noise of his thoughts slowly rising in volume with the immediate threat removed. “Get out so that I may take the wheel. We need to get your wound treated”, he said, very close to pulling him out of his seat.

 

McCree didn’t pose any more questions. He gave him a look he couldn’t decipher before answering “Got just the place. Hold on, I’ll give ‘ya directions.” He silently slid out of his seat, allowing Hanzo to take the wheel as he clambered back in the truck and fumbled with the seatbelt for a moment before finally managing it. 

 

Despite any misgivings, he might have had he follows McCree’s directions further out into the desert. If he’s being truthful with himself he’s not sure why he’s even doing this, he’s not sure of anything in fact. From the bar to this moment, every word, every decision, didn’t make any sense to him. If he had been smart he would have never accepted the drink, never walked into the bar in the first place and wasted his time and money. He should have gone looking for somewhere to stay, but instead, he let frivolous distractions guide his actions. It was just another in a long list of mistakes. McCree was not privy to his conflicted thoughts, they drove together in relative silence save for the songs on the radio, a seemingly endless barrage of classic rock. Hanzo didn’t recognize some of the songs, his father had been more of a jazz connoisseur. His mother, on the other hand, had always been a lover of rock and roll, belting out Led Zeppelin and X Japan lyrics while she tended to her garden. He didn’t let his thoughts linger on his family long, instead, he focused himself on getting McCree to his destination. That was the least he could do and then once he was certain he was alright he would go on his way. But to where? He desperately wished he knew but no clear route came to mind. Only a morass of winding and mired trails presented themselves each more desolate and unappealing than the last. He had nowhere to go, no future that looked to be worth walking into. But at the very least he was away from Hanamura, he took solace in that fact it was the only small comfort he could cling to. 

 

McCree’s route finally led them to a small dilapidated looking house, the dusty windows cracked in several places and the worn and splintered wood of the walls and steps showing the first signs of true decay. It didn’t seem like the best place, they were still out in the open and he couldn’t envision how such a small space would be comfortable or have the necessary supplies to dress his wound but he said nothing on the matter as McCree hobbled out of the truck and up to the rickety stairs. He followed behind him with belated steps wary and more than a little on edge. To his surprise the interior seemed bigger than the outside would suggest. In the corner stood a small table with what looked to be several boxes of dry goods underneath it and a very old looking hotplate. To the right lied a relatively neat but spartan bathroom, shaving razors sat on the edge of a somewhat dingy looking sink and the end of a toothbrush could be seen peeking out from a mug with a logo he didn’t recognize. In the middle of the room stood a beaten and threadbare mattress laid out on an old metal frame with a damaged headboard, pulp fiction novels were haphazardly stacked on the floor nearby as well as a pair of well-worn leather boots. McCree slowly moved across the room swiping clothes off the bed and stuffing them into a box nestled off in the corner next to a stack of blankets. Hanzo could only surmise that he was trying to tidy up, it reminded him of Genji, how his room used to look with his belongings scattered everywhere, knick knacks and treasured belongings lost to time and bad habits. He shakes his head, that was so long ago it feels as though it were another life altogether. 

 

He idles by the door while McCree takes a seat at the table, pushing aside the remains of a sandwich and what appear to be shotgun shells. “Take a load off”, he said, waving him in. Hanzo walks in opting to take a tentative seat on the edge of the bed as he watches McCree pull what looks to be a small toolbox out of a crate beneath the desk. He quickly begins tinkering with his arm, “Obviously this happens frequently”, he thinks as he watches him pull at loose screws, and assess wiring with a kind of practiced familiarity. He looks away suddenly feeling out of place. It's not a foreign feeling there were many times he had felt that way amongst the clan, always questioning if that way of life was something he coveted for himself or merely for the sake of his father. He had never truly come to a conclusion on that matter. He had instead preoccupied himself with other things, one of them being trying to get Genji in line. His brother had always refused to listen, his willful nature taking a stark turn towards outright rebellion when their mother died. He had tried to be lenient, lend an ear to his sadness but Genji had never obliged him. Instead, he had left the castle, coming and going as he pleased, shirking all duties and picking fights and trading insults for gentle admonishments. Truthfully, it still made him angry. It wasn’t as though he had to deal with their father’s expectations, the elders constantly breathing down his neck. He had been willing at one time to let it go. But after awhile it all became too much to bear especially when he had been saddled with the burden of taking care of their father alone. Left to watch the once strong man he had spent the majority of his life emulating slowly grow ill and feeble. Spending nights alone in their home wondering if he would wake up the next morning only to find him dead in his room, the fear of that realization, the sadness of slowly watching him become bedridden. And then finally watching him die, while Genji gambled their money away and pulled countless men and women into his bed, indifferent to all suffering but his own. 

 

McCree breaks him from his thoughts a moment later. “Hey now, you doing alright?”, he asked. Hanzo looked up to see the gunslinger eyeing him curiously from his seat, his work obviously done, his arm looking almost as good as when he first saw it. 

 

“I am fine”, he lied, getting up. “I have seen you here safely so I will take my leave”, he stated, adjusting the case on his back before he made quick strides towards the door. 

 

“Woah, where’s the fire? You got somewhere to be?” 

 

Truthfully there was no rush, but he feels off in a way he can’t describe. He’d like to blame it on any number of things; jet lag, the heat, the whiskey, but none of them seem to be the right answer. He stands in the doorway for a moment, his eyes roving over the mountains, nearly obscured by the heat haze. He looks at them almost wistfully, so different from the mountains back home. He’s not sure why, but he can’t bring himself to cross over the threshold and back out into the desert, paralyzed with something close to indecision or perhaps fear. 

 

“‘Ya kinda surprised me back there”, McCree said abruptly.

 

“How so?”, Hanzo asked, turning to face him, begrudgingly curious.

 

“What you did, saving my ass.”

 

“I could say the same of you”, Hanzo answered, “You did not have to bring me with you.”

 

“Naw, I had to”, McCree said firmly. “Not every day you find someone with a good eye and stellar aim who waxes poetic about the desert over whiskey. That’s rare. Worth protecting.”

 

Hanzo didn’t answer him not quite sure how to proceed. He let his eyes drop to the floor before fixing his gaze once again on the horizon, completely unsure of what to do.

 

McCree speaks up again “Hey, look the least I can do is show you a good meal after you drove me out here. Can’t do that if you stick in the doorway though.”

 

Hanzo turned to give him an appraising look. He observed the almost earnest look on his face, the hole from the gunshot still clearly visible in his arm, the taste of the whiskey still lingering on his tongue. He looked outside to the lonesome field, the gentle rise and fall of the mountains far off in the distance, the trail to nowhere that he was currently walking. He ground his teeth briefly, inhaling once and exhaling loudly through his mouth before slowly turning and walking back inside, closing the door as he went.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo is forced to do some reminiscing after McCree makes him an offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some light mentions of blood and panic attacks in this chapter, just thought I would offer a warning.  
> Also, I wanted to say thank you to all the people who left kudos and comments on the previous chapter I really appreciate it. Thank you for reading!

Hanzo had never been given to impulsive decisions. He was more like his father in that respect, demanding any and all information he could compile before making a well thought out and calculated move. His brother, on the other hand, was given to rash acts. Spur of the moment decisions fueled by his own whims and the compulsions of others. Genji was more like their mother, a spark of spontaneity in an otherwise rigid and inflexible landscape. It was a trait that at times had confounded their father who fervently swore with a kind of rueful smile that it was her fault that he had turned out that way. That never seemed to phase her though, happily encouraging his strange habits though there were times where even she could not abide by his reckless moves. Despite his inability to understand it, his father had often times lauded those inscrutable aspects of his mother’s personality. Declaring that she was the one who kept him sane and firmly rooted in a reality without the constant tugging of the clan or the worry that seemed one step away from consuming him. He began to understand some of that burden once his father had grown ill and much of the responsibility fell to him. It was because of that pressure that led him to give into that impulsive nature for the first time. 

 

He had just turned 16 and his mother had been gone for the past 4 years. Admittedly none of them had coped well with her passing, his father had thrown himself so deeply into his work that his appearances around the house became short and sporadic bursts of paternal instinct only to be cut off by a phone call or a query from one of his men. The man he had known so well who had always been serious but still with a jovial streak had turned grim. And Genji had changed from a mischievous but caring boy into a sullen and rebellious teenager. If there had been any change in himself he didn’t identify it quickly, too preoccupied with the training his father had suddenly thrust upon him and his own vain efforts to try to take care of Genji when his father found himself too busy to. There had been times where he felt as if the walls of the castle were slowly closing in on him when the training his father had him take on felt close to exhausting him, times when he desperately wanted to just run away. Despite his best efforts to keep things together, it felt as if everything was falling apart. So one day merely on a whim and after a sparring match had quickly gone south he had climbed over the castle wall not stopping until he had made his way to the train station and from there had found his way to Yonehara beach. The last time he had been here was to celebrate his father’s birthday some years ago, a momentary respite after weeks of grueling work and several near mishaps. He breathed a momentary sigh of relief to be away from the castle. Though he found after a few moments of standing on the sand and looking out over the clear waters, the sound of the waves greeting him as he walked further down the beach, that he felt a twinge of guilt for leaving. He hadn’t even told his father where he was going he had merely left. He could already hear his voice, fatigued as it always seemed to be these days, chiding him for acting rashly.

 

He thought about going back, returning to the hectic safety of the castle. He even began to make the trek back up the beach. But then he stopped, thinking about all the times his mother had forced his father to relax, to get away from work before it completely consumed him. It was a feeling that Hanzo thought he could begin to relate to as he sat down in the sand near the water's edge and turned off his phone. He could only imagine the angry messages demanding him to return home that he would be privy to once he turned it back on, but for the moment he couldn’t find it in himself to care as night slowly began to fall. For the first time in what felt like months, he felt calm though he supposed his surroundings were helping a great deal with that. The beach was mostly deserted save for a few people reclining on a blanket by the line of trees and a couple walking along the sand. He paid them no mind as he observed the slow ebb and flow of the tide as it engulfed rocks and what looked to the remains of a sand castle. He moved with it, retreating farther and farther up the beach as the water slowly crept over the sand. He stayed there for a long time, his worries forgotten for the moment. 

 

Hanzo wished he could get that feeling back. The ability to shuck all worries, able to take a chance and stop overthinking everything, to resist the need to consider the minutiae of every decision, examining even the smallest choice from every possible angle. Though he guessed after all this time he had finally tapped into that impulsive trait because here he was choosing to stay with a stranger he had just met in a bar. Risking life and limb to save him from his pursuers and then driving him out into the middle of nowhere to look over his wounds. It baffled him to no end, the split second decisions he had made, the decision that had led him here in the first place. Though he supposed some of the decisions had been made for him due to the nature of the situation, there wasn’t much time to think things through when you were being chased by men with guns in their hands and fury in their eyes. But he still found it strange that with nothing more than the promise of a good meal that McCree had convinced him to stay. He wasn’t even that hungry and yet here he was sitting on the edge of McCree's beaten and worn mattress with something akin to anticipation. “You lonely fool”, he thought to himself. What else could be his reason for remaining here other than some sad need for companionship? He scoffed at the idea of it, he had always followed his head not his heart where decision making was concerned and so far it had yet to fail him. Regardless of what he thought, what he might have the chance to think, he needed to keep moving and as soon as lunch was over he would see himself out and that would be the end of things. 

 

True to his word and after only a small amount of rummaging around McCree made them a simple but more than palatable meal. He had trudged back into the room after parking the truck behind the house at Hanzo’s request and had then proceeded to pry off the license plates and replace them with battered ones from Albuquerque. He then changed the color of the truck from a deep crimson to a cobalt blue with the use of a small device that he placed back in his drawer. Once his chores were finished he shambled inside and strode over to his small cache of dry goods as Hanzo once again offered his assistance in the hopes that the menial labor would take his mind off his imaginings of the past. McCree had waved him off amicably declaring that he was fine and that it was his civic duty to show him some hospitality. Hanzo had sat back on the bed with a huff feeling more and more out of place with each passing moment. Despite his growing anxiety he somehow managed to keep himself from fidgeting, adopting that same look of indifference that had served him well all those years as his father’s right hand. He watched as McCree looked through the box of canned goods, setting them aside and quickly gleaning their contents with a twisted fork and an old can opener. Within the next moment he had turned on the hotplate and was throwing in the contents of several cans, and before long McCree was handing him a bowl with chipped edges filled with black beans in a dark red sauce and what looked to be small franks off on the side. Hanzo eyed it for a moment, it was a relatively meager meal but his stomach was just beginning to grumble and he certainly wasn't going to belittle McCree’s cooking and certainly not when he was still recovering from his injury. He took a spoonful of the beans and he could feel his eyes widen at the taste. 

 

“So what’s the verdict?”, McCree asked sitting across from him, his own bowl balanced in his lap. 

 

“It is good”, Hanzo replied quietly.

 

“Better than you thought, huh?” 

 

“Truthfully yes.” 

 

“I get ‘ya, canned beans and franks probably aren’t what you had in mind. But I know how to doctor ‘em up.”

 

“Evidently. What did you cook the beans with?”, Hanzo asked tasting them again they were spicy, smoky, with a hint of sweetness, and a subtle tanginess that he liked more than he thought he would.

 

“Just a little vinegar, a bit of honey, lime juice, and some of these”, he answered holding up an empty can of chiles in adobo sauce “I take it you like ‘em.” 

 

“I do”, Hanzo admitted. 

 

“I'm glad, I know it ain’t exactly filet mignon.” 

 

“It does not have to be. Sometimes the simplest things are best”, Hanzo said, thinking to many of the more extravagant dinners he had been to over the years. They had been less of leisurely affairs and more of networking events, ways for his father to gauge the setting for new potential business partners and subtly intimidate rivals. Hanzo had been to many of those tiresome suppers, sweltering in his suit with his long hair pulled back as the heads of rival families tried to subtly grill him for details about the clan. Trying with all their might to pry their fingers beneath the chinks in his armor, though they never found any. He was too tight lipped, too taciturn. Even their speech, thick with subterfuge and duplicity didn’t break him as he chatted to them easily about matters of government and world affairs while he mechanically ate his food, not truly tasting any of it. The expensive cuts of meat paired with braised and steamed vegetables and costly wine never really satisfying his hunger. In an odd way, he found himself relishing this moment. True, he was on the run and McCree was as well but it was a relief he realized being able to enjoy and savor his food like this. Even when he had been younger, when he was still looking after his father, food was a necessity not truly a pleasure. He ate quickly because he was always being called to do something because at one point his father was in and out of the hospital and he never dallied in the kitchen long not knowing how long he would have before he had to jog outside so he could accompany his father to the emergency room. It was not as if he minded, he wanted to be there for him as a way to make up for the fact that Genji couldn’t be bothered to be around, and besides after his mother’s passing food had seemed to lose all flavor. He no longer relished ramen or the sweets she had bought for him, the tart crust piled high with strawberries glistening with sugar and covered with thick layers of whipped cream. He let the memory, bittersweet as it was, quickly fade. Content to simply sit there and enjoy his food. 

 

When they were through with their meal Hanzo went off to wash the dishes. McCree had been about to object but Hanzo had quickly cut him off “You have done enough”, he insisted and had gone off to the bathroom to wash the bowls in the relatively clean sink. Hanzo was mildly annoyed that there was no kitchen in the house but he supposed that at least there was clean water, he resurfaced a moment later with the clean dishes stacked in his hands. He sat them on the desk McCree looked over to him with a small grin, a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth.  
“Much obliged”, he said tipping his hat. Hanzo gave him a terse nod of his head before taking his seat back on the bed. He wasn’t sure what to do now, the meal was finished but he was still here. He had been expecting that same urge he had felt when he had left the castle to come over him, compelling him to leave. But all he felt was a strange need to stay, a feeling of pervasive inertia. He sighed once before he forced himself to rise from his seat and quickly shouldered his bag. 

 

“I should go”, he stated, his voice sounding awkward and forced to his ears. “Thank you for the food”, he said and quickly made his way out into the balmy air of late afternoon. He walked blindly, not sure where he was going. But his feet seemed to be overtaken by some compulsive need to keep moving regardless of intention or direction, his mind urging him on to some indistinguishable vista, to a place he couldn't name. He had been there too long he realized as the heat seemed to burn away the haze of the past few hours. The assassins were sure to converge upon his location he thought, the noise of the past, the thoughts that he had held at bay while he had been tucked away in that house with McCree creeping up on him. It had been no more than a minute before McCree was running after him, his footfalls heavy on the dirt and gravel behind him. “Hold on now”, he said. 

 

Hanzo slowly turned to regard him “What is it?”, he asked.

 

McCree gave him a curious look “You even know where you’re going?” 

 

“Yes, I am going this way”, Hanzo replied, gesturing vaguely to the horizon. 

 

McCree snorted “I swear you’re doing that on purpose.” 

 

“What?”, Hanzo asked nearly smirking, all too aware of what the gunslinger meant.

 

“You don't know these parts. You actually know where you’re headed or are you just gonna wander the desert awhile and hope you get lucky?” 

 

I have a plan”, Hanzo replied defiantly. 

 

“But no destination in mind I reckon.” 

 

Hanzo gave him a frustrated look, annoyed that he was bringing it up. Annoyed that he couldn’t even conjure up a lie to give him, and perhaps most vexing of all was the fact that he was focusing more on the angles of McCree’s face, the darkness of his eyes. “I will figure something out McCree. I do not require your assistance.” 

 

“Alright, but I might need your’s.” 

 

“What are you talking about?” 

 

“My hand...” 

 

“It seems to be healing well.” 

 

“Yeah, here’s hoping”, McCree said holding up his hand, still obviously injured if his wince was anything to go by. 

 

“Put your arm down before you make things worse for yourself”, Hanzo chided. 

 

“See that’s part of why I’d like for ‘ya to stick around. I’ve been using some old med packs to try to get my hand patched up but they’ve obviously seen better days. It’s gonna take some time to get my hand healed up but I need to keep moving.” 

 

“Because of those men who were pursuing you.” 

 

“That and I’m trying to make it down to LA. Got some business to attend to.” 

 

“So you want me to escort you there?” 

 

“If you’re willing, yeah. Could really use someone with aim like yours. Plus it’d be nice to have someone to help watch my back.”

 

Hanzo frowned as he looked off to the horizon, the far off mountains in the distance, observing the expanse of clear skies above them. He felt that same pervasive urge to walk and keep walking, but what McCree offered sounded intriguing. It was something to do he realized, it would give him a reason to keep his mind rooted in the present. It would give him a sense of purpose no matter how fleeting, somewhere to go. But he barely knew McCree. He seemed nice enough, he was accommodating yes, but that was all he really knew. And for him being so talkative he had yet to really divulge any important information. He had yet to even tell him why those men were after him in the first place. The whole thing seemed ill advised but he couldn’t deny that the idea had him interested, perhaps it could provide him enough time to rethink his plans and choose a destination for himself. Perhaps it could even help to sate this sudden and inexplicable need for companionship. He turned to face him then, looking him in the eyes. “If I am to assist you then I need to know why those men were after you”, he stated firmly.

 

McCree looked as if he didn’t want to answer. “Guess I should’ve been expecting that”, he said after a moment's silence. “Well if you must pry I’m secretly a big film star and those were some fans, pissed off that they couldn’t get my autograph.”

 

Hanzo immediately turned on his heel and began marching off in the opposite direction. McCree went running after him “Hey, hold your horses. Just pulling your leg.”

 

“There is nothing remotely funny about this situation”, Hanzo retorted, his ire truly raised now. “You are asking me to get involved in a potentially dangerous situation with absolutely no knowledge of who I am up against. If you want me to help you then you must tell me all you know about your pursuers, no matter how small.” 

 

McCree looked at him, letting loose a breath he hadn’t realized the other man had been holding before adjusting his hat. “Shoulda knew better than to mess with ‘ya”, he said with what Hanzo could only imagine was a rueful smile on his face. “Come on, we can talk inside”, he said, gesturing for Hanzo to follow him. He did so, still mildly annoyed. They trudged back inside and Hanzo remained by the door, more than a little agitated until McCree finally urged him to come in and sit. He did so begrudgingly as McCree took the seat opposite him, leaning back slightly on the table only to wince as his arm bumped against it. Hanzo found himself about to get back up but McCree waved him off. Hanzo sat back down, more than a little baffled with himself. “So where should I start?”, McCree asked. 

 

“From the beginning of course”, Hanzo replied.

 

“Right, well the truth is I’m no actor and those weren’t angry fans.” 

 

“No”, Hanzo answered in mock disbelief. He was growing more impatient with each second but was desperately trying to keep his composure. 

 

“Hard to believe with this face, right?”, McCree said. “Anyway, I reckon those fellas were after me because they were looking to cash in on that bounty on my head.” 

 

“I see”, Hanzo said, he had thought it was something like that but it was gratifying in a way to have his suspicions confirmed. “What did you do?”, he asked, mildly curious now.

 

“One of the few things I’m proud of”, McCree said, his tone more serious. “I used to be in a gang back in the day. I had only joined up to make some quick cash but after they saw I could shoot just a mite faster than I could talk they decided to keep me around. Business was good for awhile but after a couple of long cons turned bad everything went to hell in a handbasket. So I took up my gun, walked out the door and never looked back. And like they say the rest is history.” 

 

Hanzo merely nodded though McCree’s story seemed incomplete to his ears. It was true that leaving any gang, no matter how small, was an act that usually brought down harsh punishments but there seemed to be more to his tale. Though it seemed as if he didn’t want to elaborate about his gang days, a feeling he understood all too well. He decided not to press him for details at the moment, instead shifting the conversation elsewhere. “Do you know of any others who will be after you? What their skill sets are, or their usual strategies?”

 

“Never saw those particular fellas before. They were rookies if I ever saw ‘em though, busting in there guns blazing.” 

 

“I had thought something similar.”

 

“Right? The pros usually just lay down some traps and wait it out. Try to do everything nice and quiet.”

 

“So you have been on the run for a good amount of time?”

 

“Oh yeah”, McCree answered “Gotta be at least a decade now. Started out with just Creed. Now there’s Martinez, Foster, Coleman, Fisher, H-” 

 

“There are more?”, Hanzo interjected, slightly baffled. 

 

“Those old gang bangers don’t mess around.” 

 

He considered his words, it was true that deserters were often tracked down and swiftly executed. But for his old gang to take out a bounty that was drawing a multitude of bounty hunters over the course of years meant that he had to have done more than simply leave. Why else would they be willing to potentially pay out so much money for a low-ranking member deserter? He felt compelled to ask what the real reason behind his sudden departure was but thought better of it. He didn’t truly need to know that information to aid him with his plan and as curious as he was it was his business and he should let it remain that way. “So I am here essentially as insurance. There is a possibility that these men you’ve named might pursue you while you are traveling to Los Angeles and since you are still injured and beginning to tire of their persistence you require my skills.” 

 

“Hit the nail right on the head”, McCree said amicably. 

 

Hanzo nodded not really sure if he wanted to be embroiled in another chase, not sure of anything really. He could leave right now, forget about this whole affair, tell McCree that he wasn’t willing to get wrapped up in his problems when he had his own to deal with. He felt bad about McCree’s injury but in the grand scheme of things what was the point of staying? What did he stand to gain? Not much if he was being truthful, just an excuse for his lack of foresight, a momentary distraction, a kind of escape from the harsh realities of his situation. It didn’t make sense to stay. 

 

A moment later he was snapped out of his reverie by the sound of McCree’s voice. “Wait a sec”, he said, producing a small wad of crumpled and creased bills from a sealed pickle jar that he took out from his box of rations. He placed the cash on the table a moment later as Hanzo stood there mildly perplexed by the gesture. “Gotta pay ‘ya if you plan on taking the job”, he said seeming to sense his confusion. Hanzo didn’t answer him, he just continued to eye the money with an odd sense of longing, already thinking of the nights in motels and the food that he could purchase. He looked over to the jar still in McCree’s hands, how empty it looked with only a few dog eared dollar bills remaining. “You do not have to pay me”, he said, suddenly struck with a strong wave of guilt.

 

“Naw, I want to.” 

 

“Why?” 

 

“Just showing my appreciation is all.” 

 

“I haven’t done anything”, Hanzo answered, flummoxed. “And certainly nothing that warrants this much of your hospitality.” 

 

McCree seemed slightly put off by his statement. He gave Hanzo a curious look before he said “Shoot Hanzo, it ain’t even that much cash. Besides I can’t really call us square unless I give ‘ya more than just those beans and franks, no matter how good they were.” 

 

He looked at McCree then, observing the almost earnest look on his face as he sat there, the relatively empty jar held in his injured hand. After a moment of conflicted feelings and quickly weighing his options Hanzo finally nodded and muttered a quick “Thank you.” 

 

“No problem”, McCree said, seemingly satisfied “So you in?” 

 

“I am”, he answered after a moment’s hesitation, still unsure if he was truly doing the right thing or not.

 

The gunslinger rose to his feet a moment later, holding out his hand. “Gotta seal the deal then”, he said. 

 

Hanzo mechanically took his hand, still feeling as if he was making some sort of mistake. They gave a quick shake and McCree gave him a slow smile “Glad to have your help partner”, he said. He then proceeded to give him some of the finer details about the trip, as well as detailing who they might be up against. From his descriptions, it sounded as though these bounty hunters were capable but at times lacked the appropriate foresight and planning to back it up. Holding onto old routes and plans that had proven themselves to be failures on the off chance that they would somehow get lucky. He told him about some of their more colorful exploits as he casually tossed belongings into a large duffel bag. He recounted the time Martinez; a man with a jagged scar that ran the length of his face and a pronounced limp managed to place a multitude of explosives throughout a gorge and nearly had blown him sky high. Or the time one cold autumn night that Fisher had enlisted the aid of a particularly attractive man to lure him into a trap. Hanzo had scoffed at that particular anecdote “You honestly fell for that?”, he asked with a smirk.

 

McCree shrugged with a bit of salacious grin on his face “What can I say? He was saying all the right things.” 

 

“Such as what? Hello?” 

 

McCree gave a hearty laugh at that, a sound that he hadn’t realized he had been craving to hear until it came tumbling out of the gunslinger’s mouth. “I ain’t _that_ easy Hanzo”, he said, giving him a small wink. 

 

Hanzo rolled his eyes “You do not seem particularly hard either.” 

 

“Well, not right now.” 

 

“That was awful”, Hanzo said, wrinkling his nose in distaste. 

 

“That one not gelling with ‘ya huh?” 

 

“No”, he replied, handing him a few of his books which McCree carefully placed in the bottom of his bag. 

 

“Don’t worry I’ll get you to crack a smile.” 

 

“You may try”, Hanzo said trying to shake off the sudden urge to somehow pull more laughter from McCree’s mouth. Ignore the need to hear more of that chuckle just as low and deep as his voice, a sound that somehow sent a shiver down his spine despite the late afternoon heat. Regardless of everything McCree had told him about those so called bounty hunters, their inane machinations and their high level of skill, Hanzo wasn’t concerned with them. He knew he would be up to the task. What he questioned were his own motives, the fact that he had no clear path set for himself. It was a strange existence, for as long as he could remember he always had a plan, each move of his day down to the very second had been painstakingly outlined. It was baffling to be aimless as he was, a wanderer searching for purpose and a place to belong. But somehow even that was not nearly as perplexing as his odd fascination with McCree.

 

He hadn’t found anyone attractive in a long time. There had never been any time to, he had always been too busy thinking out escape routes, planning his next moves, and collecting information on his opponents. This was the first time in what felt like forever that he actually had time to really catch his breath and think things over. He had passed men on the streets, people he had thought were attractive, that at one time he would have snuck into the castle under the cover of darkness quietly creeping through the shadowed corridors with bated breath. But that was a long time ago, even before things had gone poorly he hadn’t really been involved with anyone. There had been people his father had passed his way, women from well off families that he had conspicuously tried to place into his tight circle of friends. His father had even taken it upon himself to coerce him into several dates with those he had deemed worthy of their namesake. He had gone along with it out a sense of duty to him, never once telling him that he had no interest. He had never held anything more than a passing platonic affection for any of them, always cutting things off before love could truly begin to blossom in their hearts. If Genji knew anything about it he never mentioned it, he supposed he wouldn’t, Genji wasn’t very discriminating in terms of who he took to bed. Women and Men of all shapes and sizes were found tip toeing out of his room in the wee hours of the morning. He had told him one afternoon as he ambled through the kitchen that as much as he still valued appearance he was beginning to care more about personality. At the time Hanzo had dared to call it personal growth but he was still as rambunctious as ever. 

 

Genji had never been in love, but neither had he, and sometimes he wondered if he was even capable of such a thing. He had never found anything close to love in his heart for any of those people his father had tried to pair him with, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. He had met countless women each one more interesting than the last, some with sharper wits than Genji making snide remarks with gentle eyes and soft laughter. There had been those that reminded him of his mother mischief hidden behind sweet faces. There had even been those that seemed to be more cunning than the families they hailed from sly and intelligent with outstanding beauty. Though only one of them had ever gotten close enough for him to consider her a friend. Her name was Akane, she had been the firstborn daughter of a wealthy family that at one point had helped the Shimada-gumi through some financial difficulties. Her father and his had been good friends and he had often seen them either laughing over drinks in his study or talking business in hushed tones at their dinner table. He hadn’t known Akane in all that time she had stayed to herself, passing in and out of rooms with quiet steps, always with a book in hand or her eyes focused on the door. It was only when his father suggested they date did she become more than a stranger to him. She had become his friend, an accomplice, and a confidant as they realized very quickly that they weren’t interested in each other romantically. She made it very clear on their first date that she didn’t want to marry anyone, instead deigning to solely devote herself to her work in biology. They had remained close friends though their “dates” took on more casual tones as they traversed the city’s streets and found refuge in open air cafes, in parks and bookstores. One evening they had stayed in the castle, his father conveniently gone and Genji as usual nowhere to be found. She had gone on a long diatribe about their families about how her parents were essentially trying to force her into marriage. He had listened to her laid out on his bed, exhausted from training as Ravel steadily played in the background, the soft sound of rain hitting the rooftop close to lulling him to sleep.

 

“Tradition isn’t innovation”, she had insisted brandishing her cup of tea before taking a long sip from it. “Our families cling to the old ways because it’s familiar. Because at this point it’s essentially seen as sacrilege to go against it. Even when there could be new and better ways to do things that they’ve never even dreamed of.”

 

“You sound like Genji”, Hanzo commented, sitting up as the piece slowly came to an end. 

 

She pulled a face “Please don’t compare me to your brother”, she said. “He’s nice, but he would only ever say something like that so it would make it easier for him to do as he likes.” 

 

“Well, you are not wrong there. Also, he just likes to be a contrarian.” 

 

“That sounds about right”, she said setting her cup aside. “Do you think he’ll ever give up his playboy lifestyle?”

 

“It is doubtful at this point.” 

 

“So you’ve given up hope?” 

 

“To be honest I did not have much, to begin with.” 

 

“You are so bleak sometimes”, she chided, shaking her head.

 

“How are your classes going?” 

 

“Subtle subject change”, she commented with a smirk. “Good, I should be acing the exam this Friday.” 

 

“Congratulations.” 

 

“Don’t jinx me, I’m a little shaky on some of the material.” 

 

“You will do fine”, he assured her. “It seems as if your plans are finally falling into place.” 

 

“I guess so”, she said with a small smile as she came to sit on the bed next to him. “Hanzo what are your plans for the future?” 

 

“The immediate future?” 

 

“Yes, and the more far-reaching answer.” 

 

“To graduate and continue my training to take on leadership from my father.” 

 

“That’s all?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“You don’t aspire to be anything outside of that? Just the leader of the Shimada-gumi?” 

 

“Yes”, he answered again, more firmly this time.

 

She fixed him with an unimpressed look “Even if it means you’re stuck in a loveless marriage?” 

 

Hanzo, had his training not been better would have sputtered, instead, he merely looked over at her in mild shock “Where is this coming from?”, he asked.

 

“I was curious.” 

 

“About my love life?” 

 

“You’re my friend Hanzo, I would like to see you at least mildly happy and I just can’t see you coming to love some woman your father has chosen for you. No matter how hard you try.” 

 

“My feelings are immaterial.” 

 

“You say that now, but I doubt you’ll be feeling that way when you’ve been living with your wife for years and you realize that even after all that time there is nothing between you except for a strained tolerance.”

 

“What are you saying?” 

 

“I’m saying that you should find someone on your own. Someone who will make you happy, someone you could come to truly love. You deserve that much.” 

 

“Is there a particular reason we are still discussing this?”, he asked, his tone mildly irritable. 

 

“Yes, because at this rate and the way you overwork yourself your good looks will only last so long”, she said pointing to the dark circles rimming his eyes. He had then proceeded to playfully swat her hand away as she laughed and they had gone on to talk about other things as the rain continued to pelt the tiles of the roof, the sounds of the castle subdued and drowned out by the passing storm.

 

He let the memory slowly fade, the wistfulness it brought on just beginning to subside. He hadn’t thought of her in a long time, they had fallen out of touch once his father had fallen ill and he had been forced by his own shame and the clan’s assassins to flee the country. He wondered how she was doing if she had indeed become the biologist she had always hoped to be. Hanzo considered her words, that declaration she had made that rainy afternoon. Did he truly deserve to find happiness with someone? After what he had done he didn’t think so, and even if he did, did he really think he would find that with McCree? He was getting ahead of himself he realized. He gave a quiet sigh as he just managed to banish those meddlesome thoughts, focusing his attention on helping McCree with his luggage. 

 

Once the packing was done McCree set to work on a simple dinner of what looked to be canned pasta, only made edible by the use of copious amounts of seasonings and several dashes of hot sauce. Mccree looked almost contrite offering it to him, shooting him a rueful grin as he simply said “Out of beans”, as if that would suffice as an explanation. Hanzo didn’t care, he was simply grateful as he ate his meal though he found himself not savoring it as much this time. They opted to eat outside, the warmth of midday giving over to the coolness of early evening, the sky turning an array of oranges and pinks. They continued to watch nights slow descent upon the desert, the sand turning from a dusty rose to a deep blue, the waxing moon hanging high amidst a sky rife with stars. He recognized most of them, his time spent with his father and his telescope at the forefront of his mind as he looked them over. McCree sat next to him, both of them silently observing the heavens for long moments before the cold forced them back inside with their empty dishes in hand. Before he could even protest McCree took his plate from him and strolled over to the bathroom to wash the dishes. When he returned a few minutes later Hanzo huffed “I could have done it”, he said, without any real agitation. 

 

“And you did, I owed ‘ya one”, he said with a small grin as he placed the freshly washed plates on the table. He leaned down pulling out a bottle of bourbon and two shot glasses that looked to be cut from crystal. “Care for a drink?” he asked. Hanzo, trying to distance himself from the horrors of canned ravioli immediately nodded his head as McCree opened the bottle and began to pour. He handed him his shot and raised his own with a tilt of his head. “Here’s to your health”, he said and easily knocked it back. Hanzo followed suit allowing himself a minute to admire the craftsmanship of the glass, the diamond pattern of the crystal catching the dim light cast by the lamp. “Nice aren’t they?”, McCree asked. 

 

“They certainly are”, Hanzo agreed.

 

“Thanks, old friend of mine gave ‘em to me for my birthday. Never had much of a chance to use them though, was always waiting for the right time.” 

 

“I have found that when you wait for the right time to come, it rarely does. You have to make those moments for yourself.” 

 

“Can’t really argue with that”, Mccree replied with a smile “You learn that the hard way?” 

 

“Yes, and also through my grandmother. She had bought this tea set that she had been coveting for years, the palest shade of green I had ever seen. But since she had spent so much money on it, she only wanted to use it for a truly special occasion. Such affairs came and went but she never even brought it out of the cupboard. Eventually, she passed never once having used it.”

 

“Aw sorry, that’s a real shame.” 

 

“Yes. My mother told me that if you wait for special moments they will never come. Each day, every action, even something as simple as sharing a meal with an old friend can be a special occasion.”

 

“Smart woman”, Mccree said with a small smile. 

 

“She was”, Hanzo agreed, his tone fond. McCree didn’t say anymore, he merely poured him another shot. Hanzo gladly took it, trying to keep himself from feeling the familiar sadness thoughts of her brought on. “What business do you have down in LA?”, he asked suddenly, trying to take his mind off the past, not entirely sure if he was going to receive an answer. He watched several emotions play over McCree’s features, so quickly that he couldn’t ascertain any of them. When he finally spoke again his words were slow and measured as if he were trying to actively decide how much information to divulge. 

 

“A close friend left me something down there. Wanted to go and collect it”, he said, his tone somber. 

 

“I see. Has this friend of your’s passed?”, he asked gently. 

 

McCree paused. “Yeah, been gone awhile now”, he answered quietly. 

 

“I am sorry.” 

 

“Don’t be. It's not your fault.”

 

“Even so, allow me to give my condolences.” 

 

“Thanks”, McCree said with a kind of wistful smile. He looked away for a moment, quickly wiping at the corners of his eyes. “Sorry”, he muttered. 

 

“There is no need to apologize. It does not matter how much time passes you always miss the ones you’ve lost”, he said firmly, thinking of how many years he had spent where just the mere mention of his family had brought tears to his eyes. 

 

“You ain’t never lied”, McCree answered a minute later pouring himself another shot and downing it quickly. “Just wish I had a chance to say goodbye.”

 

Hanzo didn’t answer, instead thinking of the night his father had passed. The exact moment the life had left his eyes. There was something eerie about watching someone die he realized, although he would go on to witness it for years afterward. But to see your parent die, someone who had supported you, loved you, and so thoroughly been a part of your life was another thing entirely. “I had a chance to say goodbye”, Hanzo said finally, his voice low “It was not as comforting as I hoped it to be.” 

 

“I don’t doubt it”, McCree answered soberly. “Couldn’t help but think about it though. Thinking there was something I could’ve done differently, wishing I had more time.” 

 

“I had thought the same thing once but I realized very quickly that there is never enough time. At the very least I am content in knowing that while my family was alive I showed them all the affection I could.” He paused, thinking of Genji briefly. “For the most part.”

 

McCree nodded “Damn, this got heavy”, he said after a moment's silence. “Sorry about that”, he said rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“It is partly my fault.” 

 

“Naw, you’re helping me down there. You got every right to know why”, he said, rising from his seat and stretching lazily. “Anyway, it’s getting late. Better hit the hay”, he said as he pulled out a spare mattress from underneath the bed. It was clean save for a stain of what looked to be wine but he couldn’t be sure. “Sorry about the accommodations”, he said gathering a few blankets from atop a relatively neat pile and spreading them out on the mattress. 

 

Hanzo snorted “I have slept on worse things. Do not worry yourself over me.”

 

“Whatever you say, partner. At least once we make it to the next town over you won’t be sleeping on the floor. Not sure if motel mattresses are as nice as this one though.” 

 

Hanzo didn’t answer he merely knelt down and gently laid himself on top of the blankets, he shot up a second later, instantly regretting it. The mattress was so lumpy it felt as if it had been stuffed with potatoes and the crumpled remains of a newspaper, perhaps it had he thought, given the state of it. McCree looked at him curiously as he sat up “The beds at the motel seem preferable to this”, he said, attempting to rub his back, sore spots already making themselves known.

 

McCree gave him a mock offended look, dramatically placing a palm over his heart. “That’s bona fide memory foam Hanzo. That’s the best damn mattress money can buy.” 

 

“In what year? The 1970’s?”, Hanzo inquired. 

 

“Say what you want but you’ll be singing a different tune when you see those beds at the Super 8. Clean on the outside, bedbugs and cigarette burns on the inside.” 

 

Hanzo pulled a disgusted face as McCree chuckled and left the room to presumably brush his teeth. When he returned Hanzo was still sitting there lost in thought, unable to fathom how any mattress could be so uncomfortable when McCree looked over at him with a teasing grin and asked: “How you liking that memory foam now?” 

 

Hanzo didn’t answer right away instead he turned to give the gunslinger a small smirk. “Forgive me, I was just considering the merits of sleeping on the floor.”

 

“Alright hotshot”, McCree said with a small laugh, shaking his head as he walked over to the lamp and turned it off, plunging the room into darkness. “See ‘ya in the am”, he said not bothering to remove his clothes and only shucking off his boots before slipping under the covers. Hanzo was inclined to at least take his shirt off but thought better of it, just in case there was a problem. He laid out storm bow next to him the thought of the assassin weighing heavily on his mind. He wondered if they were close if they had managed to follow him, how many of them there would be. In the quiet darkness of the house, he let his mind run wild over every worst case scenario, imaging devious plots, and subsequent countermeasures. He laid like that for what felt like hours. Sleep usually evaded him these days the threat of attackers and his own nightmares keeping him up into the early hours of the morning. He had always been a bit of an insomniac staying up late to either read or get a head start on work. But these days he stayed up not so much because he wanted to but because that’s all he could do. Even now fatigue tugged at his eyes and he couldn’t find it in himself to close them instead laying flat on his back his gaze turned towards the cracked ceiling and the dusty light fixture. He knew he would have to be alert tomorrow so he tried to make himself comfortable though it seemed impossible his mind pulling forth a catalog of nightmares that had plagued him over the course of the last few years. Nightmares about his mother, his father, Genji. They all tormented him, awakening him from his slumber in a cold sweat, his heart racing. He rolled over several times trying to ignore the fact that the mattress seemed to be jabbing every side of him, distract himself from the fact that even with the few blankets McCree had supplied him it was still cold so close to the floor. He rolled around some more gritting his teeth as he willed himself to finally shut his eyes trying to lull himself to sleep with the gentle sound of McCree snoring off. It seemed like hours later but after another long bout of tossing and turning and even resorting to counting backward from 100 sleep finally overtook him. 

 

 

He looked around briefly, somehow he was back in the castle. But it wasn’t the castle as he knew it, it was some kind of strange amalgamation of the castle and desert. High ceilings giving way to blue skies and the wood panel floor dusted with sand and small cacti. He walked around, everything was just as he had left it, cherry trees dotted the courtyard and the familiar scent of floor polish greeted his nose. Suddenly, below his feet, the wood splintered and peeled back to reveal a hole so deep Hanzo couldn’t see the bottom of it. From its depths came an eerie roar followed by the distinct smell of decay. Moments later a dragon appeared, green and ghostly the edges of its lithe body frayed like cloth, its horns cracked and broken, its talons splintered, eyes large and sunken deep in its skull. Hanzo recoiled as it came towards him, its slow approach heralding a sickening chorus of bones popping. A moment later something else appeared from within the depths of that bottomless chasm, he could see a hand with pale sallow skin and bloody fingers grip the wood and pull the form of a man over the side. It was Genji. He looked just the same as he did that night he had left him to die, even the sword still shining red with his blood remained embedded in his chest. “Genji”, he said, his voice broken. “Brother”, Genji replied flatly, his dark eyes fixed on him as he began with shaking fingers to pull at the sword lodged in his chest. Hanzo gasped, fully ready to stop him but found himself unable to move, the sand somehow keeping him in place. He watched in horror as Genji wrestled with the blade for a moment before finally with a monumental effort and an anguished groan he wrenched it free, blood dripping freely down his front and pooling at his feet. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, the words died in his throat as Genji stalked forward with jerky movements as if suspended on an array of invisible strings, his limbs and joints seeming to be working at odd angles. A gut wrenching grinding noise like bone scraping bone arrested his ears as he grit his teeth trying to free himself as Genji angled the sword towards him ready to strike. 

 

“Genji, I am truly sorry for what I did to you. I know I cannot make up for what I have done but-” 

 

“You’re right”, Genji rasped, cutting him off. “There is nothing you can do. How could there be?”, he asked, his blood cutting a thick crimson trail over the floorboards. “You killed me. Your own brother”, he said drawing closer with every word. Hanzo desperately pulled at his feet trying to get himself free of the floor. It was no use he realized, he was either going to be stabbed or he was going to have to awkwardly fight Genji who had the full advantage over him. “Wasn’t that how it was before?”, asked a thundering voice behind him. He turned to see his dragons staring unblinkingly back at him, their faces almost unrecognizable to him now, it had been so long since he had last seen them. He felt his body shake at their words steely and grafting on his nerves. “You had the advantage before. Years of practice and tireless effort. Now the playing field has been evened.” Hanzo wanted to protest but before he could they surged towards him wrapping them so tightly in their coils that he could barely breathe. They pulled him to the ground, the hot sand of the floor burning his back as they managed to get him to lay there motionless as Genji shambled forward a cruel smile twisting his face. Hanzo felt his eyes go wide as his brother lunged back and with both hands and enough force to crack the floor, brought the blade down, impaling him in the chest. 

 

With a ragged cry, he woke from the dream the corners of his eyes wet with tears and his heart pounding in his chest. He heard a groan off to the side of him but paid it no heed. He needed air, he needed space. Before he could think he was up from the nest of threadbare sheets and blankets he had made on the floor, past the threshold and outside. He ran blindly for a few feet before stopping abruptly, dizzy and nauseated, he put his hands on his knees trying to steady himself as he felt his heart continue to pound. He heard tentative steps behind him, as his stomach churned as if he were about to be sick “Maybe I am”, he thought grimly. McCree’s footsteps stopped abruptly behind him, he seemed to be wondering if he should get any closer to try to reach out to steady him. Instead, he stood close by, his presence warm behind him as he gently muttered words he couldn’t make out, the noise in his head was too overwhelming. He inhaled deeply giving several shuddering raspy breaths before managing to stand upright again. He didn’t dare look McCree in the eye, his face flushed with the embarrassment of his outburst. When he finally did turn around it was to the sight of McCree giving him a look of concern. It was a look that he was well accustomed with, his father had given it to him many times when he thought even he was pushing himself too hard, past the point of exhaustion. Or the looks his mother gave him when he was young and he had scraped his knees and he had refused help, stating through small groans of pain that he could get the bandages himself. Even Genji had given him that look once when things were still good between them and they hadn’t yet begun to exchange harsh words instead of greetings. It was just his way he supposed, to suffer in silence. He looked McCree in the eyes, almost wishing he had reached out to try to console him earlier. He sighed once, suddenly exhausted. 

 

“Hey you doing alright?”, McCree asked quietly. 

 

Hanzo considered his question, not sure if he even wanted to answer him. “I am fine.” 

 

McCree didn’t look convinced “You sure about that?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

Mccree looked as if he wanted to push the matter further but seemed to think better of it as he gestured back towards the house. “Better get some rest”, he said gently as he hesitantly laid a hand on his shoulder. Hanzo allowed it, wishing he had the nerve to lean into the touch. Instead, he gave McCree a weary nod of his head as he clapped him lightly on the back and they made their way back to the house. Once they were inside Hanzo dropped onto his cot with a small groan as McCree slipped back into bed, but not before shooting him a look of concern, obvious even in the darkness. 

 

“What is it?”, Hanzo asked, his voice slightly hoarse. 

 

“Nothing.” 

 

“You keep staring.” 

 

“Maybe I’m just enjoying the view.” 

 

Hanzo, in spite of himself, gave a slight snort of amusement. “That was terrible.” 

 

“Call it what you want but it did get you to lighten up a bit.” 

 

“There is that, yes.”

 

“Seriously though, you sure you ain’t up to talking about it? I have been known to be a great listener.” 

 

“When? You never cease talking”, Hanzo replied with a smirk. 

 

“Now just what are you trying to say Hanzo?” 

 

“I am saying you run your mouth.” 

 

“You think these past couple hours were something? You ain’t seen nothing yet”, McCree proclaimed proudly. 

 

“In comparison wandering the desert does not seem so bad now.” 

 

He saw McCree fall back onto the bed, clutching his chest as if he had been shot through the heart, he landed with a dramatic groan. “That’s mighty cold Hanzo, and after all the trouble I went through to spruce the place up.” 

 

“Is that what you are calling it? You merely moved your clothes off the bed and onto the chair.”

 

“Hey now, don’t I get an ‘A’ for effort?”

 

“A ‘C’ perhaps.”

 

“Damn, it’s just like school all over again”, McCree said amicably. “Sure it ain’t much but compared to some of the other spots I’ve been holed up in, this might as well be the Ritz.”

 

“I see”, Hanzo replied, looking thoughtful. 

 

“What about you?” 

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

“While you were on the run, you must’ve hit up some places like this.”

 

“I am not on the run”, Hanzo replied, perhaps too defensively.

 

McCree sighed “No man has nightmares like that who isn’t running from something.” 

 

“I am not running from anything.” 

 

“I’d be inclined to believe you if this was a couple hours ago.” 

 

Hanzo frowned at him, gripping the hem of the blanket so tightly he thought he might tear it. He felt like storming away, lashing out, or not replying at all. But instead, he just sat there allowing the silence to stretch on for long minutes until McCree finally spoke up again. “Look, I get it. You don’t have to tell me your life story. But it might help ‘ya to talk about some of what’s eating at you.” 

 

Hanzo stared at him then, their eyes meeting in the dark. He had never really had the chance to vent, perhaps he had but never gave himself license to. Instead, he had bottled everything up, desperately hoping that the pain would go away if he simply didn’t dwell on it. But wasn’t that part of what had led him here in the first place? What had led him and Genji into conflict? The fact that they both had refused to talk about any of what was bothering them, always deflecting and sweeping things under the rug until it overflowed and came spilling forth in an unstoppable torrent of anger and resentment. He frowned again, he knew he wasn’t ready to tell McCree of what happened back in Hanamura, he didn’t think he’d ever be ready to tell anyone of the atrocities he committed that night. But at the very least he could try to tell him about his journey so far, his dreams, as he said it might help. McCree looked just about to lay back down and try to doze off again when he finally spoke. “Thank you for the offer”, he said slowly “It is just hard to talk about it.” 

 

“Don’t doubt it. What’s going on?” 

 

He sighed again, running a hand through his hair. “I have been running a long time. From Japan to New York, from there to California and I have not stopped until now. Even though I know my pursuers have no way of knowing where I am I still feel as if I have stayed in one place for too long.” 

 

“Comes with the territory”, McCree answered, “Who ‘ya running from?” 

 

Hanzo went silent for a long time. McCree didn’t urge him on, he merely sat there waiting for a response. “The people pursuing me now are from back home. Like the people hunting you, they are looking to collect the bounty on my head. Unfortunately, I cannot say I am proud of the events that led me here and for many years I tried to make amends for my crimes. Only to realize too late that there was no redemption for what I had done.”

 

“Not sure if I believe that”, McCree said quietly. 

 

“What?” 

 

“You’re sitting here aren’t ‘ya?” 

 

“Yes...” 

 

“Then you’ve got a chance to change things for the better. As long as you got life left in ‘ya, you have a chance to change. Sure it ain’t easy but I’ve learned that given enough time you can live over most things, even the hard stuff.” 

 

“If it does not tear you apart first.”

 

McCree gave him a look that Hanzo couldn’t easily decipher before answering “I got some experience there. But even when I thought I should just throw in the towel someone showed me that I still had a chance to set things right.”

 

“There are are some things that cannot be atoned for”, Hanzo replied solemnly. 

 

“That’s a mighty bleak outlook on things.”

 

“Life is bleak. For all the good things that can occur twice as many mishaps arise. For every joy there is sadness. Although I would like to believe that there is some way to make up for what I have done there are just some things that cannot be forgiven.”

 

“Not gonna lie I thought the same thing for a long time but you’d be surprised what can happen when people give you a chance. Even the worst folks can turn over a new leaf if you give ‘em enough time.”

 

“Perhaps. But it is not that way for me”, Hanzo said, so quietly he wasn’t sure if McCree heard it. He couldn’t find it in himself to care if he did or not as he rolled over, facing towards the door and pulled the covers over his head leaving his statement to hang in the air, content to let sleep take him.

 

When Hanzo woke the next morning the first thing he noticed was the red serape draped over him. He had noticed it briefly, sitting in the pile of blankets stationed in the corner but had paid it no mind, assuming it was just another comforter. But now as he gingerly sat up he took a better look at it, the serape was soft made of a thick material he couldn’t name and smelt of pine and greenery. There was another smell there he couldn’t identify and before he could stop himself he had buried his nose in the fabric, chasing the scent until he was positive it was some kind of cologne. When did McCree even have time to put on cologne he wondered, he had yet to see any bottles around. He smelled it again, whatever he was using it smelled spicy and a little woody, it was certainly not unpleasant. Hanzo stopped himself realizing he had essentially buried his face in the serape. He quickly pulled away all too aware how it would look if McCree were to walk in on him. He pulled it off and quickly folded it into a neat square as he thought about last night. He vaguely remembered being cold after his episode eyeing the stack of plush looking blankets that stood tantalizingly close in the corner but hadn’t dared to pluck one for himself not that he had the energy to do so. McCree must have noticed his shivering and decided to put an end to it. Hanzo felt his face warm at the thought of McCree carefully placing the serape over him before shaking his head and giving a long sigh, he was being ridiculous. He was slated to get McCree down to LA safely and that was the extent of things between them. Two strangers thrown together by necessity and bound by a common goal. That was all they would ever, and could ever be he told himself bitterly, rising from the cot and stretching. The night on the floor had been hard on his back, he sincerely hoped that wherever they went next would at least have another bed, cigarette burns be damned. McCree was already gone, a novel missing from atop the pile by his bed. He lingered there for a moment his eyes moving down the stack, lingering on the titles. There were a few Stephen King novels as well as a great deal of Lovecraft, it was safe to assume that McCree was into science fiction and the fantastical from how well worn the books were. 

 

He strode outside a moment later to see McCree tinkering with the engine of the truck, though he quickly noticed he had abandoned his shirt as it was haphazardly tied around his waist. Hanzo considered turning around and heading back in the house but his eyes were arrested by the subtle flex of muscle beneath tawny skin, the length of his arms, the broadness of his shoulders, the large and faded tattoo that lay between his shoulder blades. He stopped, halting his slow admiration of McCree’s back for a moment to take better stock of it. It was a skull intricately detailed with the long body of a rattlesnake twisting itself out of the right eye and up into the open mouth. On either side sat a revolver the twin ends smoking, the entire image offset by bunches of vibrant orange marigolds. That was Deadlock’s symbol. 

 

He retreated back inside not content to let McCree know he had been staring, he placed the serape at the end of the bed and took a seat, not sure why the revelation of McCree’s former gang had him feeling so off kilter. The clan had never had dealings with Deadlock, though they knew of them. As his father had said they were small time, blue collar criminals, a rag tag bunch of outsiders and degenerates with more brawn than brain. He had heard of some of their exploits; arms dealing, drug trafficking, money laundering but nothing truly noteworthy. Now McCree's story about multiple bounty hunters trailing him for days on end made sense. He had heard that Deadlock’s founder had died some years back, killed by his own right hand or at least that’s what the rumors had stated. His successor was an apparent lunatic driving his men to the brink of exhaustion and shooting his associates for the smallest infraction. It made sense that someone like that would call for McCree’s head, even if it meant paying out a considerable amount of money to have it. He was no stranger to deserters, in the wake of his father’s death there had been a few men who had attempted to leave, their loyalty to the clan burned and buried along with their leader. The elders urged him to handle things, to take control of the situation. So in his anguish, he had the clan’s assassins dispose of them. He had regretted the decision later, realizing he had not been thinking clearly when he made the order but the elders assured him that he had done the right thing. Such acts of disloyalty could not be tolerated. Even worse it was a liability to have someone who knew the inner workings of their business to be out in the streets, free to speak to whoever they pleased, able to divulge important intel to rival families or worse. Though he still had to wonder if there was more to McCree’s story if there was something beyond the failure of several long cons and his own whims that led to his departure. He didn’t have long to think on it as McCree walked into the room a moment later, his shirt back in place and only mildly sweaty from his work “Mornin’”, he said. 

 

“Good morning”, Hanzo answered, not entirely sure how to proceed. It had been so long since he had to deal with another person and last night he had admittedly ended things on a dismal note. He was curious as to what McCree was thinking but couldn’t bring himself to ask as the gunslinger spent another minute idling in the doorway. 

 

“I can whip up some breakfast real quick. After that we best be heading out”, McCree said, as he finally trudged inside. 

 

“Of course.” 

 

McCree nodded before moving over to his box of rations and pulling out half a loaf of bread and a small jar of strawberry jam. He took out an old looking toaster and proceeded to plug it in, waiting several minutes before sliding in two slices of bread and tapping his foot until they popped up again. He generously slathered both pieces with jam and handed them to Hanzo who accepted them with a quick “Thank you”, as he set to work on his own food. They ate in relative silence and within a matter of minutes Hanzo had already finished his food and had decided to keep his eyes trained on his empty plate. He desperately wanted to bring up last night, ever since he had entered the room the atmosphere had been strange, awkward. He was certain it had to do with what he said before he forced himself back to sleep, but what else was there to say? It was not as if anything had changed from then to now, it’s not like he felt differently about things, he hadn’t done anything wrong. His only offense was perhaps making things awkward but as Genji had told him once that seemed to be his true calling. 

 

“So listen”, McCree said suddenly, breaking his train of thought. “Just wanted to say sorry about last night. You were already in a bad way, hell I know what that's like. Wasn’t right for me to try to pry right then. But hey I just wanted to let you know that if you ever need someone to talk to I’m right here.” 

 

Hanzo considered his words, finally tearing his eyes away from his plate and focusing them on McCree. “I am not trying to be ungrateful”, he said slowly. “But why would you even want to listen to any of my concerns? We have not known each other for very long.”

 

“Don't have to”, he replied. “Not that I don’t want to get to know ‘ya better”, he said, quickly backtracking. “But everybody needs a shoulder to lean on. Sure, just talking about your troubles ain’t gonna automatically change things, but can’t be any worse than bottling it up forever.” 

 

“I suppose not”, he answered slowly as McCree gave him a quick smile before throwing his bag over his shoulder. “Ready to go?”, he asked. Hanzo nodded shouldering his own bag and following McCree out into the desert heat and into the truck. Hanzo took the wheel as McCree quickly placed their bags in the jump seat and settled himself onto the passenger’s side. Without a second thought he pulled out onto the road, McCree’s words still echoing in his head as the house quickly slipped out of view.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree and Hanzo spend some time bonding and are forced to fight off some bounty hunters as they continue to make their way down to LA.

The road out from the safe house was long. A straight and wide expanse of asphalt that stretched over miles of seemingly endless fields and sand. When he asked McCree exactly where they were he had pulled out a creased and coffee stained map that showed all the cities in the state and pointed to the area directly between King City and Paso Robles. They were quickly traversing down a route known as the king’s highway or as he called it el camino real. When he inquired about it further McCree had quickly informed him that the road connected California’s 21 Spanish missions. Some of which had been lost to the war while others were still left standing despite their age and the march of time’s gentle strain on their roofs and masonry, the original route of the highway marked by a series of commemorative bells. Admittedly he didn’t know much about such things, his knowledge regarding Californian history was relatively limited. His only reason for coming to this side of the country was because he had already been discovered back in New York. He had hoped that the throngs of people constantly swinging in and out of each other’s paths, the constant movement of everyday life would help to shield him from whoever may have stalked him from overseas. He had learned very quickly just how truly vigilant and relentless the clan’s assassins were as he had quickly done away with 3 of them and had fled the city via a red eye into California. While he had sat in his seat with his eyes closed, hoping the act of mimicking sleep would be enough to propel him into slumber, he had thought about landing somewhere in the middle of the country, trying to live in anonymity in some obscure town with more corn than people. Considering how quickly he had been found it seemed like an even better idea though he had to admit there had been something intriguing about California. 

 

He had spent a few days in the northern part of the state, so different from where he was now. He had walked along the beaches, cold and entrenched in deep swaths of fog, traversed Union Square with its plethora of shops and traveled down to Pier 39 and indulged in perhaps too much crab for one day. Though he was careful not to succumb to the ways of the tourist he found it increasingly tempting as the days passed and he sped by several museums and a fair number of restaurants that made his stomach grumble and his mouth water. He begrudgingly left the city after 3 days when he realized that he let himself become distracted and that he had been in one place for far too long. He had cut a swift course through Monterey, blithely ignoring the aquarium and had made his way to San Jose, realizing very quickly that he had no clear route in mind, his only motivating factor being to keep moving. A fact that had served him well because as he had been about to leave the confines of the city he realized he had been found, his pursuer wearing a dark suit with a briefcase in hand and the tail of a dragon just peeking out from below his sleeve. For 3 long days he had run, desperately trying to put distance between him and his assailant until finally on the 4th day he had tired of the chase and had rounded on his pursuer and shot him, his body arching almost gracefully before it hit the dirt. Strange how that simple event had led him here, driving this truck with McCree situated next to him fidgeting with the radio for a station not overcome by static. In an odd way, he was happy for the trail of events that had thrust them together though he couldn’t deny that he was apprehensive. Not only because of his own burgeoning feelings, but also because he had yet to see another one of the clan’s assassins. It had him on edge a feeling that even McCree’s closeness, strangely reassuring as it was, couldn’t easily dispel. But most of all, and a fact that seemed to be inevitable was that his mind was overwrought with thoughts of the past. So much so that he may as well not be living in the present at all. And after an hour of driving, as the moments seemed to do nothing more than drag on he knew that this so called escape he had planned for himself had done nothing more than trap him in a steel cage where he had nothing to do, nothing to distract him from his memories. That he would be forced to stare them down, examine them fully until he had witnessed every last atrocity, every last pain and disappointment time and time again.

 

He had attempted small talk at first as some kind of short lived liberation from the past, the two of them spending the next 30 minutes tumbling in and out of half baked conversations caught in a soft but persistent push and pull for information. McCree asked him about the reason for the bounty on his head and Hanzo asked the same of him only for both of them to hem and haw and deflect. McCree inquired about his tattoo, Hanzo asked about his arm and after several more attempts and awkward pauses that seemed to have no end in sight, they dropped the pretense of conversation altogether. Hanzo was at once thankful to not have to force himself to speak but then apprehensive all over again. Overcome with the noise of too many memories he’d rather forget, and with no hope of drowning it out. 

 

It was not as if he thought that the minute they hit the road that they would be facing down greedy bounty hunters and narrowly evading firefights. But he thought at the very least there would be more to distract him from the guilt that seemed ready to tear him apart, other than the droning voice of a country western singer and a wide expanse of road offset by low sitting cacti and large commercial farms. His mind slowly began to pull out of focus as the minutes slowly passed into hours and the monotony of the drive sent him into a downward spiral of despair and anxiety, of which the only escape seemed to be to concentrate harder on the road. He tried in vain to focus on driving, keep his mind rooted in a present that only seemed to be slipping through his fingers, but it was no use. As if to add insult injury the nightmare from last night came unbidden to his mind. Every slow and agonizing movement of Genji’s bloodied and calloused fingers attempting to pry the sword from his chest leaving him breathless with pain. The sight of Genji’s dragon twisted and malformed slowly riding the breeze as if it were merely a lambent kite and not the strong and lively spirit he remembered from his youth, his own dragons just as strong as he remembered holding him down, readying him for the killing blow. His grip on the wheel tightened, he had thought for long hours about what would happen if Genji had somehow survived that ordeal, how things would go between them. Most likely the way things had gone in that dream he thought sadly. He had considered it for far longer than he cared to admit and he had made a silent vow to himself as he had been holed up in a hotel in Japan and had taken a pair of scissors to his hair and had continued to cut until tears begin to stream down his face that he would let his brother take his revenge. It would be what he deserved. He had hoped once that despite everything, no matter how futile it seemed that perhaps if Genji had survived that there would be room for reconciliation between them. That they could somehow rebuild from the shattered and broken remains of their relationship, forge something new and stronger in its place. Though ultimately he knew it was a foolish dream. Genji was dead. He was not coming back. And that was the end of things. 

 

Even in knowing that fact McCree’s words suddenly came back to him from the other night. His optimism, packaged in innocuous phrases and amicable terms was comforting in its way but ultimately was lost on him. Who would dare give a murderer the chance to change? What redemption could be found for someone like him? How could he possibly live over what he had done? He could continue to try as he had been, attempt to live a quiet and peaceful life. But so far nothing had worked. Wherever he went the images, the memories of that night haunted him. Hounding him from barren room to barren room. Even in his sleep, he couldn’t escape it and after months of disturbed sleep, he knew it was foolish to think that there could be any peace for him. Even now as he continued to drive towards some nebulous destination there was no peace to be had. He was kidding himself if he ever thought there would be anything but misery for him. There was no end in sight to it, no one left to console him, he was alone. 

 

“Hey Hanzo watch the road”, McCree said abruptly, cutting through the haze of his thoughts. He looked up not realizing he had been hanging his head down, his unfocused eyes turned towards the floor and the truck gently swerving. Hanzo shook his head, evening out their course, his grip on the wheel tightening again as he huffed out a terse “My apologies.” 

 

“No problem, it’s not like we’re in heavy traffic”, he said gesturing to the fairly empty roadway. 

 

“Right”, Hanzo said, feeling ill all of a sudden, his head swimming and his throat clenching with the force of several emotions. He could see McCree eyeing him with something close to concern but he couldn’t be bothered to lay his worries to rest. Instead, he kept his eyes straight ahead, hoping that the feeling would quickly subside. 

 

“Can you pull over for a minute?”, McCree asked. Hanzo didn’t question why, he merely did as he was asked pulling onto the side of the road without a word, trying to ride out the sudden pains of anxiety that were twisting his stomach into tight and cruel knots. He looked over to McCree who was already unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping outside. Hanzo made no moves to follow him, resisting the urge to lay his head on the wheel and let sleep take him. He couldn’t do either however because a second later McCree was standing by the driver’s side of the truck and was swinging open the door. “Come on”, he said gesturing for Hanzo to get out. He gave him a quizzical look before sighing heavily, getting out of the truck and locking the doors. He followed quietly behind him, still severely on edge, and more than a little sick to his stomach. They ended up walking several feet away and despite the nagging feeling of sickening anxiety he spent the next few minutes surveying the landscape. Stark as it was there was a sparse covering of brush around them along with several patches of grass that had clearly succumbed to the sun. When Hanzo finally found his voice, the fresh air helping to abate some of his worries, he asked: “Why have we stopped here?”

 

McCree turned to consider him, his lighter in hand as he pulled a cigarette from its box and slipped it into his mouth. “Thought you could use some air”, he said, fixing him with an understanding look. Hanzo was taken aback, it wasn't so much that McCree had caught onto what he was feeling it was fairly obvious given his embarrassing behavior. But it was the fact that he had taken the time to give him a chance to recover if he needed it. Hanzo looked away to the horizon, unable to affirm his words. They continued to stand there McCree quietly smoking next to him, a gentle breeze carrying that pungent vapor off into the air while Hanzo felt as if he could finally breathe easily again. After several long minutes the anxiousness that had followed him out here had finally subsided enough where he thought he could continue on, thoughts of the past temporarily forgotten in favor of what lay ahead of them. They made their way back to the truck and he quickly started the engine and pulled them back onto the road. They had only been driving for a few minutes before Hanzo muttered a quiet “Thank you”, to which McCree replied “Happy to help”, tipping his hat. 

 

They continued the drive in relative silence after that. The sound of the radio slowly fading in and out of multiple stations and the gentle rumble of the truck barreling down the road the only noise he was concerned with. Hanzo was grateful for what McCree had done for him but he knew it was only a matter of time before he was once again overwhelmed by a morass of painful memories and twisted emotions. It seemed that that respite on the side of the road was just that, an all too short respite for problems that had, and would continue to plague him. Hanzo tried to put those thoughts out of his head, instead, he tried to keep his tired eyes focused on the seemingly endless road that stretched before him. He supposed his dislike for driving only helped to further compound the feeling. Genji had always been the one obsessed with cars, or perhaps more the notion of what they represented. Freedom, the ability to go where you wanted when you wanted. It was an enticing concept given their lifestyle though he had never driven much relying instead on his father’s chauffeur and he and Genji had never driven anywhere together after he learned very quickly that Genji was under the impression that stop signs were more of suggestions to stop and not ironclad facts. They had ended several attempts at riding together with near mishaps and high speed turns around blind curves that had left his heart in his throat and his hands grasping the seat in a white knuckled grip. He shook his head, careful not to be so easily led down that rose colored road of nostalgia. Thoughts about Genji brought on so many conflicting emotions that by the end of things he wasn’t sure what to feel. Though today it seemed that the most prominent feeling was one of sadness as he could vividly recall Genji with his face split into a wide grin as he had pulled up to the castle one summer afternoon with a brand new Nissan GT-R. He had remembered looking it over with what he could only assume was a mildly impressed expression because Genji’s smile had only widened further as he got out and slid across the hood. Hanzo had rolled his eyes before shaking his head, it had been a beautiful car though he could only remember thinking about how much money Genji had spent on it rather than reveling with him in his youthful abandon. Instead, he had launched headfirst into a lecture about being more thoughtful with their money to which Genji had scoffed before completely brushing him off with a few harsh words and had left without a second thought. Even now he wished he could have put aside duty just for one moment and enjoyed it with him, he closed his eyes, briefly sighing heavily through his mouth. 

 

McCree looked over, his cigarette hanging from his mouth while smoke billowed out the open window and trailed behind them “You doing alright?”, he asked. 

 

“I am fine”, Hanzo lied. McCree looked as if he wanted to press the issue but was stopped abruptly by the radio suddenly blaring a song that was nothing more than a cacophony of twanging guitars and overly loud banjos. “What is this?”, Hanzo called out over the din in dismay. 

 

“Not too sure. I think a couple band members were a little too into the banjo”, McCree replied turning the music down with a quick motion of his hand. Hanzo sighed, relieved. McCree adjusted his hat giving the radio a dour look. “Damn, I swear these stations are only getting worse. Wish my iPod wasn’t busted to hell and back I could use some variety.” 

 

“I thought you would be ecstatic it has been nothing but country music for the past hour.”

 

“Wow Hanzo, you know what they say about making assumptions.”

 

“That they are usually right?”

 

“Ok you wanna play like that here’s one for you; straight laced fella like you is into classical.”

 

“All you have done is proven my point”, he said, sporting a superior look on his face. “Regardless you cannot blame me for disliking this. No one enjoys country music.”

 

“Obviously somebody does.”

 

“Who?” 

 

“Well me for starters.”

 

“Like I said”, Hanzo said, the barest hint of a smirk on his face.

 

“Whoo! You are as cold as nice you know that? Come on they got a station for it. They wouldn’t keep it up and running if no one was tuning in.”

 

“Or it could be that a small band of country singers managed to acquire the appropriate material to blackmail the executives of the radio station into continuing to play their music despite their listener’s vocal protests.” 

 

“It ain’t _that_ bad.”

 

“It is not that good either. If we must listen to the radio let us at least find a better station.”

 

“Fine, we’ll have it your way. Dealer's choice. We go rock, pop, or jazz.”

 

“Jazz.”

 

“Comin’ right up”, McCree said as he changed the station and the lilting notes of a piano and the smooth atmospheric tones of a sax filled the truck. “Damn, sounds like we’re gonna be lulled to sleep by early days Miles Davis.”

 

“I take it you are not a fan of his earlier work.”

 

“Don’t get me wrong, this stuff is good. But that stuff in the 70’s is where he really stretched his legs, took some chances.”

 

“It seems only fitting that you would be on board with such a notion.”

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

“What you are doing right now, taking a stranger into your hideout, employing them to escort you down to LA.” 

 

“Could say the same about you. Besides, I figure someone who’s willing to save a fella they barely know can’t be too bad.”

 

“Perhaps or I could have done that merely so I could take you in myself.”

 

“Quit playing games with me Han. If that’s really what you were after you could’ve done it already.”

 

Hanzo paused, his retort dying in his throat as he glanced over to McCree and asked “Han?”

 

“Oh yeah, just a nickname. What? ‘Ya don’t like it?”

 

“No, it is fine”, he replied quietly, sincerely hoping that the sudden bloom of warmth in his chest hadn’t yet spread to his face. “I wish I could take the same liberties with your name though nothing really comes to mind.”

 

McCree gave him a look he couldn’t easily identify “You could probably work something out with my first name”, he said taking one last drag off his cigarette before crushing it into the ashtray. “Jesse McCree, at your service”, he said with a grin and a tip of his hat.

 

Hanzo hated the fact that he found that so charming but made no mention of it as he let the name roll around in his head, making sure to remember it. Jesse, it seemed fitting in some strange way. McCree gave a loud yawn a moment later, not bothering to cover his mouth. “You may rest if you need to. I have this under control”, Hanzo said, as he spared a glance to see him stretching his arms above his head.

 

“Don’t doubt it but I’d rather keep ‘ya company”, he said, rubbing his eyes and giving the radio an almost accusing look. “You sure you’re ok with this music? I feel like I’m being sedated.”

 

“Do not worry yourself I will be fine.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“I have been up for 18 hours at a time I will manage.”

 

“What kept you up that long?” 

 

“Training”, he answered quickly. Rapidly wiping images of that horrid night from his mind. 

 

“Is that right? I’ve been meaning to ask you about that.”

 

“About what?”

 

“Why you use that bow. Not that I’m knocking it, just was curious. Seems a bit old fashioned.”

 

Hanzo was about to retort that he was one to talk, a cowboy in a day and age where there were robots, AI, and holovids, but he said nothing on the matter instead thinking back to the first time his father had placed storm bow in his hand. “I had always been fascinated by archery. My grandfather was the best archer in Japan, having won countless tournaments and performing shots that at one time were thought to be impossible. The bow I use was his, he claimed that it was given to him by a divine archer who had used it to slay a gruesome demon. Though my father admitted to me years later that he had simply crafted it himself. When he passed he gave it to my father to wield, he was well versed in many things with archery being one of them, though admittedly he preferred the sword. Eventually, he placed my grandfather’s bow in a cabinet in his study where it regrettably spent several years collecting dust until I was 10. I remember looking to the cabinet and tugging on my father’s sleeve asking him if I could use it. I had seen what my grandfather could do with that bow and I wanted to try it, to see if I could be anywhere near as skilled as he was. My father didn’t budge on the matter easily, not sure if he wanted to let me use it in case I should break it. He made me swear a solemn oath and sign a contract that he quickly wrote on notebook paper with my colored pencils that I take care of it, that I practice diligently and that I put it to good use. I kept those promises and I have wielded storm bow ever since.” 

 

“That explains it then”, McCree said with a smile “You’re one hell of a good shot.” 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

“Hell of a thing to see an archer in this day and age though.”

 

“I could the same of you. A cowboy living in a time where there are omnics and pulse rifles.”

 

“Aw never had much of a liking for those newer guns. I like peacekeeper just fine”, he said patting the holster at his hip.

 

Hanzo looked to his gun, the handle glinting in the afternoon light. He had only seen it briefly back at the bar and though he had never used guns much even in his younger days, it took no expert to see how well preserved it was. “Where did you get it?”, he asked.

 

“It was a gift. I was using this old thing, some Glock I had picked up off the floor after a heist. It got me through some tough spots, saved my ass more times than I could count, but I lost it not too long after I left the gang. Guess it was probably for the best. I was in a pretty bad way for awhile after that.” 

 

“Leaving a gang can do that to you”, he said, with his own experiences in mind. “So what did you do after you left?”

 

“Worked some odd jobs for awhile, charity gigs basically. The guy who picked me up; Gabe, he taught me a lot. Though the strange thing was that he wasn’t the one who really taught me how to shoot. He used to work with this woman named Ana”, he said, a spark of fondness in his eyes. “Shoot she was something else, ice water in her veins and nerves of steel. I thought I was a good shot but next to her I might as well have been shooting blindfolded.” He paused, taking a brief look out the window before continuing. 

 

“Anyway Gabe gave me peacekeeper a couple days after my birthday. Said he picked it up in an old pawn shop outside LA but I knew better. That son of a gun had sat through online auctions for hours to pick this up for me. He knew I was into westerns and like he used to say ‘Had a taste for the old fashioned’, so he scoured every online shop and got into an all out bidding war to get it. I remember the night he gave it to me, he called me into his office. Said he was giving me my paycheck early on account of the special occasion. Low and behold I step into his office and he’s sitting there with this plainly wrapped box on his desk and all he says is ‘Happy Birthday, it’s nothing special’, gesturing for me to sit down. So I do, and now I’m eyeing this gift like he’s put a snake in it and any second it was gonna pop out like a damn jack-in-the-box. He did do that one time, almost scared me right out of my boots. Anyway, he’s getting impatient and finally, he says ‘Would you stop looking so scared. It’s not booby trapped’ and starts gesturing for me to open it. And when I finally did...damn I thought I had died and gone to Heaven. It was the most beautiful looking gun I had ever laid eyes on, shining brighter than a star. I remember the smug look on his face even though he was trying to play it cool. He said ‘You like it then.’ I just kept shaking my head while I walked around the table and wrapped him up in a big ‘ol hug. I finally let him go after he pushed me off laughing and telling me he was glad he hadn’t wasted 5 hours on eBay. He wasn’t one for displays of affection but he just claps me hard on the shoulder telling me to put it to good use before pulling out the Jack Daniels, throwing on some Mingus and before you know it we’re stumbling out of there an hour later completely shit faced.”

 

“It sounds like a nice night”, he said, unable to halt the small smile that works its way onto his face.

 

“Yeah, it wasn’t anything fancy, but I didn’t mind. It was the first time anyone had given enough of a damn to make a fuss about my birthday in a long time.” 

 

Hanzo considered his words, the last time he had celebrated his birthday had been right before his father’s passing, after that he had been too consumed with anger and despair to do much of anything. Almost forgetting about it entirely as the months dragged past and his solitude and grief only deepened. The only things keeping him afloat in that cold sea of regret was his sense of duty to honor his father’s memory and his constant but often failed attempts to try to get through to Genji. “The last birthday I can truly remember was my 10th”, he said abruptly, hoping his words about a simpler time would help to burn away the sudden onslaught of heartache. “My parents took my brother and I to Tokyo for the first time. We spent 5 days there, though it seemed that my brother and I were determined to compress what would be considered 2 weeks worth of sightseeing into that short time. We dragged our parents to every ride at Disneyland, my brother got lost for an hour at Legoland, and then my mother dragged us to Harajuku and bought my father and I these incredibly loud matching plaid jackets.”

 

“On purpose?”, McCree asked with a grin.

 

“It was a joke, my mother was the known prankster of our household.” 

 

“Hah, I would’ve liked to see that. A tiny you all frowned up in that jacket.” 

 

“No one will ever see it. All known evidence of that incident was destroyed long ago.”

 

“That’s a real shame”, McCree said, his tone teasing.

 

“Truly it wasn’t. My mother took multiple pictures and the only way to be sure the information did not fall into the wrong hands was to delete all the files. If I had let them remain they could have been used as an effective means for blackmail, a fact that my brother would have taken full advantage of.” 

 

“Guess that’s siblings for ‘ya. So where’s your brother now?”

 

Hanzo paused, his eyes threatening to water. “Dead. He has been for some time now”, he said quietly.

 

“Aw, I’m awful sorry”, McCree said, placing his hand over his heart, his face full of heartfelt concern.

 

“It is alright”, he answered, his tone clipped. He let the silence drag on for a few minutes as he silently attempted to banish the sudden thoughts of clanging swords and accusing eyes peering up from crimson pools of blood. When he had finally felt calm enough to speak he asked: “What about you?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Siblings, do you have any?” 

 

“‘Fraid not, I’m one of a kind”, he said with a proud grin that only made Hanzo roll his eyes. “Though one year I did ask my mama for a little brother. You can imagine how that turned out.”

 

“Not in your favor it would seem.”

 

“Naw, but I did end up getting a dog. Rest in peace Bingo.”

 

“You named your dog Bingo?”

 

“I was a big fan of that song when I was 6.”

 

“I have not heard of it but I will take your word for it.”

 

“Yeah, me and Bingo had some good times. Got into trouble more times than I could count, drove my mama up the walls”, he said, a far off look in his eye as a fond smile spread across his face at the memory.

 

“What was she like?”, Hanzo asked, more than happy to let him reminisce, content to submerge himself in those happy memories along with him.

 

“She was somethin’ else”, McCree said, quick to light another cigarette as the words easily came to him. “Smart as a whip and funny too. I guess you could say she was one of those cool parents, was always looking to support my weird interests. Even when I started running around in leather chaps and an old Stetson hat I found in town she never questioned it”. He took a long drag of his cigarette before continuing, the smile on his face beginning to falter. “You would’ve never known it just looking at her but she was dead tired most of the time. She used to manage this general store back home in Santa Fe. Did that for years, working her butt off just to keep food on the table.”

 

Hanzo nodded, he understood the concept, a mother tirelessly working to give the best life she could to her son. It was a story he had heard from countless people but one that he couldn’t truly relate to. He was the son of one of the most powerful men in Japan, he had been born into money, the clan having amassed millions of dollars through trickery and at times more reputable means. His mother, once she had wed his father, had never had to work another day in her life. Though she always tried to, taking on volunteer work whenever she could. She had been nothing like the women his father’s associates had married, a fact that had made her a sort of pariah amongst the elders. She had laughed them off, declaring on more than one occasion that they were too tightly wound for their own good. But she did make the effort when necessary to play the part of the rich housewife if only to taunt and rile their guests. He smiled at the thought, her profile so clear in his mind as she pulled faces behind the elder’s backs while his father attempted to quietly admonish her as he held back laughter. “What about your father?”, he asked suddenly.

 

“Left when I was pretty young. Don’t remember much about him. Got a card from him every birthday but no address, no number, no phone call.”

 

“I am sorry”, Hanzo said with a contrite frown, silently berating himself for bringing up such a touchy subject.

 

“Water under the bridge now”, McCree said, with a wave of his hand. “Anyway, to tell the truth, Gabe was more like a father to me than my old man ever was. He took me in when no one else would. Gave me a chance when everyone else wanted me to just rot in jail.”

 

“I suppose that is what you meant the other night about giving people a chance.” 

 

“Yeah, I had done my fair share of wrong doing. Probably deserved life in prison for all the shit I did back then, maybe worse. But he saw something in me, gave me a chance to redeem myself.” 

 

“Do you think anyone deserves that chance?”, Hanzo asked quietly, his eyes focused straight ahead, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer. “Do you think regardless of what they’ve done a person deserves a chance to change?”

 

Mccree looked contemplative for a minute a small plume of smoke quickly wafting out the window as the truck continued to speed down the highway, passing tree covered hilltops and several people tending to a field overrun with lettuce. “I would say so if that person was really looking to change. If they were sincere.” 

 

“That is all it would take? Sincerity?”, Hanzo asked, baffled.

 

“Well yeah, why not?”

 

“You really believe that is all it takes for a person to be redeemed? That if they merely show sincerity in their desire to change, that is good enough?”

 

“‘Ya won’t get anywhere if you’re not putting in an effort. Sure, it’s hard, people don’t change overnight. You have setbacks, fall back into old habits maybe a couple hundred times before things get better. And yeah people ain’t gonna forget what you did right away. Hell, they might never forget. But if you want some peace of mind for yourself you gotta at least try. If you’re really looking to change, set things right, then I figure you should be able to give it a shot. Besides they’ll always be at least one people willing to give ‘ya a chance.”

 

“I would like to believe that”, Hanzo replied, his tone suddenly somber.

 

“What’s stopping you?”

 

“A great many things. Before I left Japan I did some things that I thought would help to ease my guilt, things that I hoped would redeem me”. He paused for a moment unsure if he should continue. He gazed over to where McCree was sitting, the expectant look on his face as he patiently waited for him to elaborate. Would it be so wrong to tell him? In the past few minutes, the words had flowed so easily, so naturally that he had to curb his enthusiasm to keep talking, afraid he might give something away. Though now he had to wonder, what would be the harm in telling him some of his woes? What could he possibly do with the information that would be so damning? He didn’t know and that was perhaps what had him the most on edge, the factor of the unknown, witnessing his reaction to his words, laying bare his concerns. For years he had seen such acts, tender teary eyed confessions and blunt declarations of hidden feelings to be contemptible. They were nothing more than shameful shows of vulnerability and weakness and they had no such place in the life he was groomed to live. But he couldn’t deny that it was burning him up from the inside out to keep such heavy burdens to himself. He didn’t have to tell McCree everything but to stay silent for any longer felt like something close to a death sentence. He spoke his next words quietly the anxiousness seeming to seep out from his mouth the feeling of self-loathing and despair coloring his words. “Those acts of restitution I took on failed miserably and in the end, I perhaps caused more trouble for myself than if I had merely left quietly. Ultimately none of what I did mattered and I learned very quickly that there was no way to atone for what I had done. Now there is nothing left for me to do but to continue to shoulder this burden, this guilt.”

 

Mccree considered him then, he didn’t answer right away, staring at him for a long moment as he seemingly tried to gather the right words to say. When he finally did speak he looked straight at him his eyes clear, his tone firm. “I don’t know what you’ve done Hanzo and frankly I don’t care. If anyone beats themselves up half as bad as you’re doing right now they can’t be that awful”. He paused, placing a hand on his shoulder and Hanzo had to stop himself from reflexively shrugging it off. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that it looks like you’re really willing to do better. Like you’re real sincere in it and just ‘cause of that I think you should give yourself a chance. Redeem yourself all on your own, try to live a good life. You deserve that much.” 

 

Hanzo said nothing, swallowing down several retorts and bitter pleas detailing his shame. “You would not say that if you knew what I did”, he said finally, his tone clipped.

 

“And you probably wouldn't be offering to drive me all the way out here or try to save my ass if you knew about all the shit I’ve done but here we are”, McCree replied, retracting his hand to fiddle with the radio’s volume. “It ain’t easy to forgive yourself, I’m not discounting that. Hell, I’m not even sure I have yet. But if no one is gonna forgive ‘ya, at least you can forgive yourself. Make your own happiness.”

 

“It is concerning sometimes. I feel as if there is nothing I can do to make myself happy again. That there is no way to do away with this emptiness I feel”, he said, surprised at his own confession. Surprised at how easily the words came. He pushed through the sensation quickly, not content to dwell on how fragile that declaration had left him feeling. “I am not sure I can forgive myself for what I have done but even if I were to would there be something that could bring me the joy I used to have? Would it even be worth pursuing? Would it be something enduring?” 

“‘Fraid I can’t answer those questions for you Han. But I can tell you that I wondered the same thing myself once. When you’ve hit rock bottom getting back up on top looks like a real long shot. Sometimes it doesn’t seem worth it, you get stuck, you lose things along the way and ‘ya gotta wonder if you should just stay down there in the mud. It’s a struggle that’s for damn sure. But when you finally get to that point where you can the breathe fresh air again, when you feel like a new man, you know it was all worth it. Maybe you can’t get back what you had but you can make something new for yourself, something just as good.” 

 

Hanzo didn’t answer, instead allowing the silence to stretch on as he processed his words. What he spoke of seemed too good to be true. But even so, he had to wonder if he really could find some way to forgive himself for his crimes if he could find something close to happiness. And the most pressing question of all, was he even worthy to receive it? He still had his doubts, if McCree knew what he had done he doubted he would be dispensing positivity so easily. But despite that, he wanted to hope that there was something more for him beyond pain and despair. That he hadn’t halted his hand, gripped tightly around his sword as he knelt on the floor shaking with sorrow and regret for nothing. That he could find something like contentment. He didn’t know how, nor did he know what avenues he would have to take, what paths he would be forced to walk to find it. But in the back of his mind, there was some glimmer of interest there, a single lingering thread of hope that perhaps things could work out. He didn’t know how long that feeling would last but he would take comfort in it for as long as it remained.

 

They spent the remainder of the drive in a strangely relaxed silence after that. A silence that was only interrupted when McCree complained that his legs were asleep and urged him to stop at the nearest gas station. Hanzo did so after several minutes of looking for an exit that led them to anything other than farms and bad tourist traps. Finally, he pulled off the freeway and into the small city of San Miguel. Once he had parked the car at the relatively small gas station McCree flung off his seatbelt and quickly got out of the truck, stretching his arms before shaking out his legs. Hanzo followed suit, not realizing how stiff he was till he felt his knees seize up with soreness. He allowed himself the moment to scan the area, admittedly there wasn’t much to see. This place was somehow even smaller than the town he had stopped in only days ago. The buildings, ramshackle as they were, all stood close to each other, only separated by 3-foot stretches of dusty sidewalk and offset by a wide array of colorful succulents. The one place that really caught his attention was a building that sat all on its own. It looked to be in complete disrepair, its white walls cracked and split by narrow fissures. He examined it further noting the chipped and splintered plywood that hid broken stained glass windows and that the whole structure looked to be held up by nothing more than rickety looking scaffolding and rotted support beams. McCree joined him in staring at it a moment later, his stretching apparently done for the moment. “That’s the old San Miguel mission”, he said, his head tilted back to observe the weathered bell that hung above the door. “Not much to look at now but it was a beaut back in the day.” 

 

“Why is it sitting in disrepair?” 

 

“Look around”, McCree said, gesturing to the state of the outlying buildings. “They probably couldn’t scrounge up the necessary funds to fix it. That earthquake back in the 80’s hit it pretty hard”, he said stamping out the remainder of his cigarette.

 

“You seem fairly knowledgeable about this place”, Hanzo commented.

 

“Had to be, my mama raised me Catholic.” 

 

“Ah, that would explain it.” 

 

“Yeah, we made the trek once a year. Hit up all the missions on the King’s Highway. Made it into some kind of pilgrimage.” 

 

“I see.” 

 

“Yeah, but to tell the honest truth I ain’t much for organized religion.” 

 

“I understand that sentiment”, Hanzo said as McCree nodded before stating that he would be right back and taking his leave to use the bathroom around the corner. Hanzo remained staring at the cracked and broken remains of the mission thinking back to his time spent at the local Shinto shrines near his house. He could remember several trips made there, or more specifically the last one where he had braved the bitter cold and biting winds to make the pilgrimage. Where he had stood in the snow, clasped his hands calloused from sword practice, and bowed his head and prayed for his father’s health to improve. He had stayed there so long, prayed so fervently, that his head ached and his feet were sorer than when he began. He pulled his scarf closer around his neck and started on the trek home, hoping that his prayers would be answered. He had vowed never to return to another shrine when his father’s condition only continued to deteriorate. He had hoped vainly that perhaps things could go back to the way they used to be. There was no regaining the peace and laughter of early days when his mother was still alive and the cold austerity of the castle was not the suffocating mantle that it had become. But he wished in some selfish way that the burdens of his father weren’t his, at least for awhile longer. That they could chat about things other than the affairs of the clan, where his time was not preoccupied with manipulation and ways to outthink his opponents. Where they could simply venture out into the cold night air with his telescope and watch the stars travel on invisible roads above them. Where he and Genji were not constantly at each other’s throats. Where he didn’t have to play the role of caretaker to his brother while he watched his father slowly drifting away from him, the last remnant of his strength used to support a dying empire.

 

He could still vividly remember that bitter walk through the snow from the shrine, his sore feet leading him back to the warmth of the castle, only to see his father lying in bed on the phone. Takeda, as usual, stood nearby looking over several files before leaving with a quick bow of his head and a fleeting smile for his safe return. From that day onward, his condition had only gotten worse until eventually, he was completely bedridden. A term he had laughed at weakly one evening saying it was just how his father had become before his passing. The inevitability of his death was a constant it seemed though he tried to keep it out of his mind. It was hard though, to see the man he had spent years emulating to become so feeble. Hanzo had sat there barely holding back tears at the situation, intently listening to his father’s instructions. “When I pass you will have to quickly take control. There are several families who I am sure will take the opportunity to swoop in and steal our territory”, his father said, his tone mildly fatigued. 

 

Hanzo firmly put his hand on his shoulder. “I wish you would not speak about it so plainly”, he said his eyes trained on the floor, his voice wavering.

 

He heard his father give a small sigh “I’m sorry”, he said quietly. “But my condition isn’t going to improve it is only a matter of time before-” 

 

“I am aware of that. But even so, I’d rather not speak about it.” 

 

“I understand. Your mother did always say I could be a bit morbid”, his father said with a rueful smile. 

 

“I thought she said you were too bleak”, Hanzo countered, with a small grin. 

 

He laughed weakly “That too”, he replied. “One thing I will say though is that I want you to look after each other.” 

 

“That seems impossible given the state of things”, Hanzo said, perhaps too harshly. “I rarely know where Genji is these days.”

 

His father gave a resigned sort of sigh. “Yes, he has always been given to reckless behavior but it has gotten worse lately.” 

 

“Worse? It is horrible. He is gone all hours of the day and night, he brings all manner of parasites in and out of the castle, he shirks all his responsibilities and training. He cannot even be bothered to stay here and look after y-”, Hanzo cut himself off before his anger got the best of him. 

 

“Is that the root of your anger with your brother?” 

 

Hanzo went quiet, his eyes finally alighting on his father’s face. “It is disgraceful. He is constantly out with his friends raising hell throughout the city when he knows you are here. We have no idea how much time we have left with you and yet he cannot find it in himself to remain here for more than a few minutes ”, he said, his words coming out in fierce rapid breaths, his eyes threatening to spill with tears, his hands balled into tight fists. “I just cannot understand how-”

 

His father put a firm hand on his shoulder, his grip surprisingly strong even after all this time. “I understand your frustrations with your brother. There have been many times where he did things that I could not abide by but he is obviously going through something. I am sure once he has worked through it he will come out on the other side the better for it”. Hanzo didn’t look convinced but his father continued “Though I must admit I feel as if part of it is my fault. I wish I had spent more time with the both of you.”

 

“But you had the clan to attend to, I know”, Hanzo answered, perhaps too bitterly. 

 

“Yes, but I am beginning to see that for all those years I spent lost in my work I lost sight of my duties to you as a father. I feel as if I failed you both.”

 

Hanzo paused, his eyes wide, completely unused to his father speaking so easily about his concerns. “You did the best you could”, he assured him quietly.

 

“I suppose”, his father said with a sad smile “I am sorry.” 

 

“For what?”, Hanzo asked, dismayed.

 

“For making you have to endure this.” 

 

“There is no need to apologize. None of this is your fault.” 

 

“Even so”, his father trailed off, before loosing a soft sigh. “Thank you”, he said with a soft smile. Hanzo flashed him a quick grin in return before retiring to his room for the evening. He lied in the dark on top of the covers for several hours until he heard Genji stumbling through the empty corridors his soft laughter accompanied by the low voice of a man softly imploring him to be quiet. He covered his ears rolling onto his side in an effort to fall asleep, tightly closing his eyes to halt the flow of frustrated tears. He truly couldn’t believe that his brother was abandoning seeing their father for some insipid fling. It made his stomach churn with barely contained frustration and grind his teeth with rage. He laid there for another hour, unable to fall asleep, too anxious to keep his eyes closed and too annoyed by the noise Genji and his partner were keeping up. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore and had left the castle, stalking off into the night, wandering the darkened and lonely streets in search of solace. He had briefly found it in a small cafe his eyes bleary from lack of sleep as he watched the small crowds of people mill in and out of the shop and back out onto the streets from his table. That solace he had found had ultimately been fleeting because hours later he had to return to the stifling solitude of the castle, the dread of his father’s demise and his own misgivings about the role he would have to play as leader hanging over him like a dark and suffocating shroud. Even the small respite on the side of the road, the momentary comfort he had found speaking with McCree had quickly passed and here he was yet again wallowing through the mire of his own thoughts, too preoccupied with things of the past. 

 

Hanzo continued his wait in the truck, his fingers tapping against the wheel as he kept glancing up to see if McCree was making his approach. He was beginning to grow impatient and slightly on edge, a fact that was only further solidified as he saw another truck pull up next to him. It was an older model, perhaps even older than the one they were currently traveling in, with its paint peeling off the sides to reveal what looked to be a decade’s worth of rust underneath and the evidence of several bullet holes. He tore his eyes away from the sad state of the vehicle to notice the two men inside, the one in the passenger seat giving him a wide grin, his lips pulled back to reveal a mass of yellowed teeth. Hanzo didn’t smile or nod back he merely stared at them as they got out of the truck and went into the store. He turned his eyes behind him to where his bow and quiver stood propped against the wall. Perhaps he was being paranoid but given the delay in McCree’s return and the look of those men he didn’t think it was wrong to be cautious. So without another thought, he retrieved his bow, threw his quiver over his shoulder, locked the doors, and nocked an arrow. 

 

He made a slow approach to the corner of the building, careful to keep his advance quiet as he peeked his head around the corner only to see McCree struggling with a man in black, his gun inexplicably lying in the dirt. Hanzo wasted no time in lining up the shot, but just as he was about to shoot he heard the distinctive sound of a gun and felt a sharp pain as a bullet grazed his side. He winced, glancing over his shoulder to see another man in black, a jagged scar running the length of his face and a gun in his hand aimed directly at him. “That was a warning shot”, the man stated as he stalked closer “Put the bow down Robin Hood”. Hanzo huffed a quick curse under his breath. He had left himself completely exposed, he hadn’t even thought to check behind him, too preoccupied with putting McCree out of harm’s way. His eyes traveled to where the gunslinger had finally managed to get the other man in a hold though his gun was still lying useless on the ground. They were both in a bad spot. There were two options left to him now, to surrender and put them both in a worse situation either to be captured or killed, or he could risk the gunshot wound and try to get away. “Put your bow down. Now”, the man ordered gruffly, his finger now firmly on the trigger. “Of course”, Hanzo replied, lowering himself down to the ground, the arrow still gripped tightly between steady fingers. The feel of the fletching a surprising reassurance as he took the arrow from its place and dived down and plunged it as hard as he could into the man’s foot. The gun went off, grazing his leg as the man cursed leaping back in pain while Hanzo took the opportunity to gather up storm bow and angled his shot for McCree’s attacker. 

 

His arrow found its mark and the man collapsed much to McCree’s surprise if his widened eyes were any indication before scooping up peacekeeper. He grabbed McCree by the hand, ignoring the almost comforting warmth of his palm, and hauled him around the corner to the front of the building. “Thanks. Wasn’t sure when you’d show up”, McCree said behind him, his voice surprisingly calm given the situation, the sound of a gunshot echoing behind them. 

 

“I cannot be counted upon to solve everything for you”, Hanzo said, his tone more teasing that he anticipated as they rounded the corner, the truck just in sight. They sprinted towards it only to be cut off by the same two men from before, still smiling their crooked smiles. They stopped just short of running them over as McCree leveled his gun, ready to take the shot only to recoil as a bullet grazed his shoulder. Hanzo turned, his arrow nocked, ready to fire on the man behind them when he heard another gunshot pierce the air. “Hey, this is where you wanna be paying attention”, said the man with yellowed teeth from his seat in the truck. Hanzo chanced a look behind him, McCree was standing there staring down the men in the truck, two guns raised and aimed straight for the gunslinger’s head. He cursed again, he had been in worse situations but it seemed, either way, one of them may get shot. And he had no idea if they would survive the ordeal given how far removed from civilization they currently were. But McCree seemed completely unphased by the situation, tipping his hat up to get a better view of the men currently threatening him. “Carl and Ernest, what brings the Beckett brothers out this far?”, he asked, before looking around shielding his eyes from the sun “Where’s Freddie?” 

 

“It’s not gonna matter in a minute”, said the man in the passenger seat, his stained teeth flashing with every word. “Get in and nobody has to get hurt.” 

 

“No can do fellas, not my time.” 

 

“Well it’s about to be unless you want to be-”, his words were cut off as the man in front of him whipped his gun up and shot above his head. Hanzo whipped around, horrified that he may have hit McCree only to see one of the brother’s holding his shoulder, a trail of blood already spilling down his arm. “Dammit Martinez! What the hell are you doing?”, he shouted angrily.

 

“I’m taking McCree in”, Martinez declared simply, angling his gun to shoot again. 

 

Hanzo didn’t have time to think about the apparent lack of loyalty amongst bounty hunters as he noticed the brother’s trucks quick approach towards them. He realized what they were planning to do and McCree must have as well because in the next instant he had leapt and pushed him out of the way. The both of them were sent toppling to the ground as the brothers rammed Martinez with the front end of their truck. Hanzo heard the sickly crack of bones and several shouts as McCree hastily pulled him to his feet and they were both running towards the truck. Hanzo scrambled to get inside as McCree practically threw himself in the passenger's seat. They pulled out of the gas station at a crawl, something was seriously wrong, the sound of metal grinding against asphalt meeting their ears as Hanzo tried to lean onto the gas pedal. “Those bastards must’ve slashed the tires”, McCree said, the first notes of anger slipping into his voice. 

 

“I am aware”, Hanzo said as he looked in the rearview mirror to see the brothers quickly gaining on them. “I doubt we’ll make it far like this”, he said as he tried to keep their course straight. 

 

“Don’t have to just have to put enough distance between them and us”, McCree replied. 

 

“At the rate they are gaining on us that seems unlikely”, Hanzo said, his tone frustrated, he wasn’t sure if they would even be able to keep the truck going at all as they seemed close to grinding to a halt. He was almost glad they weren’t traveling faster because in the next instant an 18 wheeler came speeding out nowhere and cut across the expanse of the road, blocking both lanes. “What in the hell?!”, McCree exclaimed holding on to the dashboard seemingly bracing himself for the imminent impact. Hanzo gritted his teeth as he slammed on the brakes so hard his foot hurt. They came to a screeching halt mere inches away from the side of the truck, only for them to be slammed from behind seconds later by the Beckett brother’s truck. He looked over his shoulder to see the Becketts stepping out of their ruined vehicle, their grins gone and their guns at the ready. He looked over to McCree who was rubbing his neck “Well shit”, he said. 

 

“My thoughts exactly. Are you alright?”, Hanzo asked, sorely tempted to look him over for injuries. 

 

“Couldn’t be better. Can’t say the same about the truck though. What about you?”, McCree asked, his dark eyes roving over him. 

 

“I cannot say”, he answered looking through the cracked windshield to see the person who had cut off their route, it was a man who looked nearly identical to the brothers behind them, he could only imagine this to be the third sibling McCree had mentioned earlier. McCree seemed to notice as well as the third brother hopped down and began slowly making his way towards them. “Looks like Freddie got an upgrade”, he said, gazing up at the truck looming ominously above them. 

 

“Now is not the time to be impressed”, Hanzo admonished. 

 

“Seems like the only time given the situation”, McCree replied amicably. 

 

Hanzo rolled his eyes, looking to the brother’s slowly converging on them. He turned around in his seat, facing the two brothers, rising to his knees as he pulled a scatter arrow from his quiver. “When I fire this shot take out the one behind me”, he said quietly.

 

McCree looked as if he was about to inquire how he would pull off such a feat, to be able to kill two men with one arrow but remained silent as Hanzo lunged forward. He positioned himself at the rear window and thrust his arm through, ignoring the scrape of glass against his arm as he shot his arrow, aiming towards the ground, impaling one brother in the neck and the other through the heart. Hanzo turned to see McCree diving out of the truck, quickly rolling as the last brother shot in vain. Things were quickly finished as McCree made it back on his feet and shot the remaining brother through the heart his limp body falling to the ground with a final raspy breath. Hanzo joined him a moment later, his bow, bag, and quiver in tow as he managed to throw McCree his belongings. “Thanks”, McCree said as Hanzo came to stand next to him as he surveyed the 18 wheeler. “Looks like we’re trading up”, he said with a low whistle. 

 

“It does not seem wise to take it. It will be harder for us to navigate an escape if we need to.” 

 

“My thoughts exactly. But maybe if we take a look at the cargo we can find something useful”, McCree said looking in the cabin to see that the keys were thankfully still in the ignition and opened up the cargo space to reveal several old cars. Before McCree could join him he had already inspected the cars and settled on a fairly nondescript Honda Civic, though they wouldn’t truly know the worth of it till they were able to get it running. McCree came into the cargo space a moment later with a grin on his face. “Seems to me like we hit the jackpot”, he said, coming to stand next to him and considering the car. “Good choice Han”, McCree said approvingly. 

 

Hanzo merely nodded, letting the nickname slide as the momentary flush it brought with it quickly faded. “I thought it was appropriate”, he said simply. “It is a fairly older model, 1980’s if I am not mistaken.”

 

“Good eye”, McCree replied, sounding impressed “You ever hotwire a car before?”

 

“No, I was hoping you would be able to.” 

 

“I’m a bit rusty but I can give it a shot”, he said, slipping into the driver’s seat and fiddling with the steering column. Hanzo stood nearby silently watching him work, until finally several minutes later the engine was revving and was gesturing for Hanzo to get in. He did so after placing his belongings in the backseat and walking over to the driver’s side but McCree just waved him off. “You’ve been driving for hours. You need a break.”

 

“I am perfectly capable of continuing”, Hanzo answered. 

 

“I know ‘ya are but you don’t have to. I got this covered besides I need my bodyguard in good shape if we get into another scuffle.” 

 

“So I am your bodyguard now?”, Hanzo asked as he got in the car and buckled his seatbelt and McCree pulled them out of the cargo space and onto the road.

 

“Well yeah. Thought it sounded better than hired help. You're more than that.” 

 

“Oh?”, Hanzo asked, eyebrow raised, his tone nearly playful. 

 

“Yeah without your help I’d be left high and dry. I sure as hell wouldn’t be makin’ it down to LA anytime soon without you.” 

 

“Is that all I am good for?”, Hanzo asked, half-jokingly. 

 

“Well, you’re good company that’s for damn sure.” 

 

“Just good?” 

 

“Alright now I know you’re just fishing for compliments. Yeah Hanzo, you’re great company. You’d be damn near perfect if ‘ya could just find it in your heart to like country music.”

 

“If that is the price of perfection then I will gladly carry the mantle of inferiority.”

 

McCree let loose a short laugh at that, shaking his head as he sobered up and gave Hanzo a playful grin that left him feeling more breathless than the laughter had. “I guess I can let your taste in music slide for now but I swear Hanzo I will make you see the genius that is Merle Haggard”, he said placing a hand over his heart. Hanzo merely rolled his eyes as he tried to hide his smile and averted his gaze to the mountains and vast pastures as they sped past, those grassy fields still green from last month’s rain and overrun with orange and yellow wildflowers.

 

The rest of the drive went relatively smoothly. There were still subjects that neither of them wished to breach, questions that for now went unanswered but for the most part conversation between them flowed easily. Hanzo hadn’t realized how much he had been missing human interaction until he was confronted with it again. He asked McCree about his taste in books only for McCree to answer that he had been reading Lovecraft ever since he was a child. “Probably not the best thing to read right before hitting the sack”, he said with a rueful grin.

 

“I have never read any of his novels.”

 

“Aw, you’re missing out especially if you’re a horror fan. His stuff is definitely something else, really gets you thinking.”

 

“I have not read much horror but there was a manga artist whose work I used to follow when I was a teenager that specialized in it.”

 

“Is that right? What was their name? Maybe I could look ‘em up later.”

 

“Junji Ito.”

 

McCree went rigid, his tone almost panicked as he cried “This is my hole! It was made for me!”

 

Hanzo had to stifle his laughter. “lt is not nearly as eerie when taken out of context. I take it you are familiar with his work then?”

 

“Oh yeah, Uzumaki, Tomie, the Enigma of Amigara Fault. Shoot, some of that stuff had me sleeping with the lights on.”

 

“That is understandable.”

 

“And…”

 

“And what?”

 

“Oh come on Hanzo. I know you’re not trying to sit here and tell me that none of that stuff had you spooked.”

 

“I am not telling you anything. I merely said that it was understandable to have that reaction to his work, though sadly I cannot relate to it”, he answered with a smirk.

 

“I best be pulling over, wouldn’t want to be on the road when your pants burst into flame”, McCree replied with a grin as he ducked a playful swat from Hanzo. They spoke about other things after that quick exchange. Hanzo told him about the first time he ever shot an arrow, his brother daring him to hit an apple off his head with one try. They had both ended up in the hospital, him sporting several bruises and a black eye after the stunt went wrong and a fight had broken out and his brother sitting next to him looking sullen with several cuts on his arms as he chewed on the offending apple with an arrow lodged in his knee. McCree didn’t have any such story but he did tell him about the first time he had ever hotwired a car. It had happened during his gang days and had come about as a matter of necessity as he and several of his comrades needed a quick escape from the police. They had commandeered an old limo, one that was so outdated that they had to manually roll the windows down to take poorly aimed shots at the police. Though he had learned very quickly that despite its age it was still well stocked with wine and champagne, a fact that became a major point of contention for McCree as his passenger’s aim became worse the more they drank and their inebriated shouts for him to drive faster and get them to a diner had him seriously considering pulling over and dumping them on the side of the road. Hanzo gave a light chuckle at that, imagining a young McCree grumbling behind the wheel as several gang members poured cheap champagne down their throats. He didn’t have a very similar story but he told him about the first time he ever drove. His father taught him by having him drive his new sports car out in the countryside. He had been so nervous to make a mistake that he had sat at the wheel with shaking hands and had finally started the car at his father’s gentle prodding only to have them move at 1 mile per hour for 20 minutes until his father stated they could try again later. 

 

McCree only teased him briefly over that before telling him about his first attempts at driving, though no one had shown him how. He had merely run off with his father’s car keys in the middle of the night, fleeing the comfort of his bed and the noise of his parent's incessant arguing and had spent the night joyriding throughout the city. Only to return home to find his father waiting for him at the kitchen table with his coffee in hand and a dour look on his face. Hanzo thought he could understand some of that feeling, his reasoning for leaving. The feeling of freedom borrowed or stolen, a respite from the grind of daily life, of a suffocating adolescence. When he asked about the more intimate details of his early years before the gang McCree had surprisingly obliged him though he quickly glossed over the time spent in his parent’s house. He spoke in subdued tones about the hot summer morning when his father left, his luggage stacked next to and him his eyes fixed on the horizon as the sunrise painted the sky a pearlescent array of oranges and pinks. He mentioned his departure with nothing more than a few firm words detailing how his father had hugged him tightly, kissed his forehead, and ruffled his hair before loading his things into the truck and silently driving off, never to be seen again. He had always assumed that he had started another family somewhere, that he had seen his half brothers and sisters in stores and on the sides of roads, familiar features on strange faces, but he had never known for sure. He spoke of the birthday cards that he received each year with no return address, the dust they collected on the mantle and the constantly broken promises of a phone call. And he told him that even though his mother had lived over the loss of her husband he would still sometimes catch her gazing off at the horizon. Her features illuminated by the desert sun as he saw a strange spark of longing in her eyes that was always quickly snuffed out. 

 

“If you were able, do you think you would you go looking for him?”, Hanzo asked suddenly.

 

McCree shook his head “Naw, I reckon if he wanted to be found by me or my mama he would have it made it a hell of a lot easier. It’s ok though, you find those kinds of relationships in other people”, he said, and Hanzo understood all too well what he meant. He had essentially taken on the role of brother and father to Genji for a time. A role he hadn’t wanted to take on, but one that he had played nonetheless. In truth it hadn't been a hard task, he had merely looked out for him as he always had listened more intently to his worries. He asked him if he had completed his homework, urged him to eat better, to take more regular showers, to train well. They had been no more than simple utterances passed between them during the day, small encouragements when he had done well and light admonishments when things went poorly. Honestly, he had never been sure if he was doing the right thing by trying to fill the void left by his father. Though he assumed in those early years that Genji appreciated what he did. It was only when his father, facing his own mortality, had pulled him more often into his study or had him sit through the arduous negotiations between him and other families that he began to see a slow rift happening between them. That was when Genji truly became distant when his advice fell on deaf ears and he was greeted with sneers rather than smiles. He had his suspicions as to why leaving Genji to face his sadness alone probably had him more than a little resentful. Though he still couldn't fathom as to why he seemed to go out of his way to make his life harder. Didn’t he understand the immense pressure he was under? He knew Genji was not blind to the expectations constantly being heaped on his already overburdened shoulders, so then why did he only make things harder for him? He had never found the answer and after a while and several heated arguments that had just barely ended before physical blows were exchanged he found himself scrutinizing Genji just as hard as the elders did. He was being petty he realized, trying to get back at him in such a way but he couldn’t deny that he was hurting and at the very least he could attempt to preserve what his father had spent so long to build. Despite the fact that Genji seemed to actively be trying to destroy it. He sighed, he wasn’t sure if he could fully take McCree’s advice to heart, it seemed impossible to detail a decade’s worth of suffering and somehow try to live as if it never happened. He wasn’t sure if he was capable of such a thing having spent so long submerged in the waters of his own misery. Even between fleeting moments of contentment, it was always there, like a viper waiting in the dark. As much as he wanted to believe in something beyond what he knew he wasn’t sure if that self-made happiness McCree spoke of would be something he could ever achieve. But at the very least he was mildly content in knowing that he wouldn’t have to face that reality for a few more days. 

 

They drove for several more hours until Hanzo stated that he was growing tired of listening to McCree’s stomach growling and he had laughed, joking that his own personal chorus was better than what they were currently listening to. “I will not have you disparaging the Rite of Spring in front of me”, Hanzo said looking seriously offended. McCree laughed again, avoiding a playful jab to his arm as he pulled them into the parking lot of a retro looking diner just as night was beginning to fall. McCree hastily got out strolling over to the door with Hanzo following closely on his heels, his own stomach beginning to grumble as they walked inside the well lit and thankfully air conditioned interior of the restaurant. They were quickly greeted by a tall omnic in a neat uniform “Table for two?”, he asked. “Much obliged”, McCree answered, tipping his hat with a smile. The omnic gave a low chuckle at that before showing them to a booth in the corner, Hanzo took his seat as McCree grabbed the menu and began looking it over. Hanzo surveyed his options right as their waitress arrived with her tablet in hand and he quickly settled on a burger and fries while McCree ordered the meatloaf. She walked off after flashing them both a quick smile which left him to take in their surroundings. 

 

Hanzo surveyed the other patrons, two women sat at the counter speaking animatedly over slices of pie, an omnic stood by the jukebox his form illuminated by the bright neon lights as he perused the song list. A waitress removed a large pound cake from a slowly rotating display case, 3 men laughed over plates of steak and eggs while a mother and father listened to their two sons diatribe about why Goku was better than Superman at a nearby table. Hanzo snorted, it sounded like some of the debates he and Genji had engaged in as children. He looked away, the memory stinging slightly as he observed McCree who looked to be holding back a yawn. It didn’t take a genius to recognize that he was tired, given the way the day had gone had couldn’t blame him and he silently vowed to himself that he would drive them the rest of the way tonight. It was only when they got their food and were quietly digging into their meals that conversation began to flow between them again.

 

“How much farther are you willing to go tonight?”, Hanzo asked. 

 

McCree looked thoughtful for a moment, his fork set on his plate, half his mashed potatoes gone while his meatloaf sat idle in a puddle of gravy. “We can probably go a couple more hours over to the next town, get a room in a motel then head out early in the morning. Any more time than that and I might just zonk out on the wheel.” 

 

“I can do the rest of the driving for tonight.” 

 

“Naw, you don’t have to do that.” 

 

“Taking into account what you just said and the way you looked as if you were fighting your yawns before the food arrived I would say that I have to”, Hanzo countered. McCree looked as if he wanted to argue his point but Hanzo halted him. “Consider it my thanks for dragging me out of the way of those maniac’s route earlier.” 

 

McCree gave him a smile “Just returning the favor.” 

 

“I don’t believe you mentioned those siblings when you gave me a list of your bounty hunters.” 

 

“Shoot, I was hoping you would have forgotten about that.”

 

“I’m afraid not. I should be receiving hazard pay considering how erratic they were.” 

 

“Damn Han give me a break. Honestly, I forgot all about ‘em.” 

 

“I would think you would remember someone like them”, he said thinking back to one of the brother’s stained and yellowed teeth. 

 

“To tell the truth I kinda tried to put ‘em out of my mind. ‘Ol Carl had a gnarly set of teeth on him.” 

 

“Yes I saw that.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m used to that. You don’t usually get lookers out here. That’s why I was so surprised to see someone like you stroll through.” 

 

Hanzo paused, placing his burger on his plate. Genji had always accused him of being completely oblivious to flirting and all romantic implications that had been volleyed at him during their high school years. But even he couldn’t misunderstand the meaning behind McCree’s words. He just managed to will away the blush that had crept over his cheeks before asking “Someone like me?” 

 

McCree seemed to catch himself “You know neat. Well put together”, he muttered. “You know who I’m used to seeing? Fellas like the ones who tried to run us over.”

 

“What a terrible existence”, Hanzo replied with a hint of a knowing smirk.

 

“It’s a killer for sure.”

 

“I am not used to seeing someone like you.” 

 

“Someone so ruggedly handsome?”, McCree asked with a wide grin on his face.

 

“If that’s what you are calling it.”

 

“What would you call it?” 

 

“Scruffy”, Hanzo replied with a faint but truly wicked smirk.

 

McCree fell back against his seat, clutching his chest as if he’d been wounded. “Why you gotta be so cruel?”, he groaned. “We can't all be fresh as a daisy like you.”

 

Hanzo rolled his eyes “It is charming in its own way.”

 

“Is that right?”, McCree asked, leaning his chin on his hand, his voice pitched just low enough to warm his face.

 

“Yes”, Hanzo answered firmly, ignoring the sudden jolt of unexplained excitement that ran through him.

 

“Shoot, you’re just giving me all kinds of compliments today.”

 

“Do not let it go to your head.”

 

“Too late, I’m gonna have to get a bigger hat.”

 

“You are always wearing it. Is it like your trademark?”

 

“I guess you could say that. Gotta keep up my branding.”

 

Hanzo chuckled a bit at that. “We all have our quirks I suppose. I have been curious though, why did you adopt the look of a cowboy?”

 

“Guess I was always drawn to it, even as a kid. Fellas dispensing justice and looking cool doing it? That was something a 10-year-old me could get behind. My mama bought me a serape one year for Christmas, I picked up some chaps from this goodwill that was close by, one thing led to another and the whole thing just kinda stuck. Yeah, it ain’t something you see every day but I’m comfortable like this. Besides I’m not dressing to impress nobody it was always just for me.” 

 

“I think I can understand that”, Hanzo replied, thinking back to the different phases of Genji’s youth. He himself had never been into any of those styles that Genji had adopted throughout his adolescence. Though he had secretly envied the way he was so willing to give himself over to those things, his ability to do as he pleased without having to be mindful of repercussions, changing his look to his whims and because in some way it brought him joy, doing it for nobody but himself. He wanted to live like that too, but he was too self-conscious and even if he had tried the clan’s elders would have quickly shut down any means of overt self-expression in favor of the norms he had begrudgingly grown accustomed to. 

 

“What about you?”, McCree asked, cutting off his train of thought.

 

“What?”

 

“You ever go through any weird phases? I wouldn’t be surprised to hear you went goth for awhile.”

 

Hanzo managed to just hold back his laughter. “No, my brother was more into such things than I was.” 

 

“That’s a real shame. I for one think you would’ve made a fine goth prince”, McCree said with a grin and flourish of his hand.

 

“Given the state of things back home it would not have been easily welcomed. Nor would it have lasted long.” 

 

“Strict parents?” 

 

“Not exactly”, he said thinking to the clan’s elders and their harsh rulings on Genji’s appearance all those years. He shook his head dispelling the thoughts of their lifeless eyes peering up at him from the floor as he addressed McCree again. “And what about you? Was there a goth phase amidst all this?”, he asked as he gestured to him. 

 

McCree laughed “Nope, could never pull it off. But hey, it might be too late for me but you could always still give it a shot.” 

 

Hanzo scoffed “I would not hold my breath if I were you.”

 

They finished their meal not long after that exchange, although McCree refused to let Hanzo leave before he had tried the chocolate pie and after several minutes of polite refusal he finally gave in and after one bite realized he had been living an incomplete existence to which McCree heartily agreed. After settling the bill they left the diner with stomachs full, and to Hanzo’s dismay, in good spirits. The sky was completely dark as they made the short walk to their car and Hanzo took a moment to turn his eyes to the glittering network of stars that hung above them as the moon just began to rise from behind the mountains. McCree stopped alongside him, tilting his head back to examine the sky along with him. 

 

“Don’t get to see stars like this back in the city huh?”

 

“Sadly no. Even back home we would have to drive for hours if we wished to see anything like this. I spent many a night out in the countryside with my father’s telescope as he taught me the constellations.” 

 

“Oh yeah? Mind enlightening me?”

 

“Only if you are able to stay awake.” 

 

“I’ve stayed up for 12 hours straight, this is nothing.”

 

“Is that a fact? After all you're yawning?”

 

“All an act trust me. So what’s that cluster of stars right there?” 

 

Hanzo looked to where he was pointing, a body of several bright stars twinkling in unison. “That is Subaru.”

 

“Like the car.”

 

Hanzo gave a slight laugh “Yes, the company took it as its namesake. Though I guess the more well-known name is that they are the seven sisters otherwise known as the Pleiades. But they are just one part of the much bigger constellation; Taurus.”

 

“Damn, you know your stuff.”

 

“Not really, I have forgotten quite a bit of information over the years. Even so, I am glad to have kept some knowledge, it has been a long time since I have been able to gaze at the stars like this.”

 

“Glad I can be here for it then”, McCree said with a grin before ducking inside the car. Hanzo was tempted to agree with him instead he merely took his place at the wheel and pulled them out of the parking lot and back onto the darkened road. After what felt like hours of traversing narrow highways and cutting through moon drenched fields they finally made it to an old looking motel, it’s neon vacancy sign just barely illuminating the cars stationed in its parking lot. McCree got out first telling him to take care of the bags while he got them a room. Hanzo nodded as he got out and pulled their bags from the back seat, more than ready to get some sleep. McCree returned moments later just as he was setting their belongings on the ground, twirling the room key off his finger. “Lucky for us we just got the last room”, he declared as Hanzo handed him his luggage. 

 

“Given the state of things that is a surprise”, Hanzo said, observing the peeling paint on the walls and the battered and worn looking doors with their missing room numbers and cracked windows.

 

“Hey, better than sleeping in the truck.” 

 

“That remains to be seen.” 

 

McCree chuckled, ushering Hanzo along “Come on”, he said as they trudged up the concrete stairs and made the short walk to their room. McCree briefly fumbled with the key before opening the door to reveal a fairly typical looking motel room. Hanzo sniffed the air which inexplicably smelled like smoke despite the non-smoking room sign that hung on the door. McCree turned on the light as Hanzo strode into the room, his bag slung over his shoulder. He observed the ancient television sitting on an old wooden media cabinet, the generic painting of flowers that hung on the wall and the incredibly loud pattern that covered the carpet at his feet. He stopped just shy of the bed peering down at it with a discerning eye. There was only one bed which was distressing enough on its own, the prospect of sleeping next to McCree enticing and awkward all at once, but somehow the thing that had him most concerned were the several cigarette burns marring the floral comforter. It was a fact that had him seriously reconsidering staying here and he dared not even attempt to pull back the comforter to look at the sheets. McCree came to stand next to him, his own bag abandoned by the still open door. “That memory foam is looking mighty fine now, huh?”, he asked.

 

“A bed of leaves is preferable to this. How are there cigarette burns in the comforter? This is a non-smoking room.” 

 

“It’s a mystery to me”, McCree replied with a shrug as Hanzo continued to stare at the cigarette burns in distaste, a poor distraction from what would inevitably have to happen soon. There was no reason to make a fuss about it he realized but he couldn’t deny the strangeness of the situation. Had it been anyone else he would have no problem, easily stripping off his clothes in favor of his pajamas and falling asleep with relative ease. But it was the fact that he would be sharing the bed with McCree that had him on edge. He was perhaps too eager to watch as McCree shed his clothes, too interested to feel the comforting warmth of his body at his back. Perhaps he would even have the privilege to wrap his arms around him. He cut himself off, fully aware that his thoughts were getting out of hand and he was letting his emotions get the better of him. He would have to be careful over the remainder of their journey, as he much as he liked McCree, especially after having gotten to know him better, he couldn’t risk getting involved with him. There was no time and although he thought that perhaps if he were to pursue him he wouldn’t have to worry about rebuffed he couldn’t chance it. There were too many obstacles, too many things ready to pull them apart, the most pressing being his own past. No, he would have to be discreet. For both of their sakes, they would have to remain as friends, no matter how painful it seemed. With that thought in mind, he excused himself to go undress in the bathroom, donning nothing more than a white t-shirt and a pair of black sleeping shorts. By the time he returned McCree was already in his undershirt and a pair of flannel pajama pants. He plopped down on top of the bed as Hanzo came over to lay his neatly folded clothes on top of his bag while McCree yawned loudly. “Been one hell of a day”, he said tiredly, rotating his shoulder. 

 

“Yes it has”, Hanzo agreed. “Is your shoulder alright?” 

 

“It’ll be fine”, McCree assured him “Just a little stiff from being cooped up all day.”

 

Hanzo merely nodded before sitting down on top of the comforter, careful to avoid the spots that were more heavily burned. Mccree gave him a quizzical look before asking “Not to pry, but why are you sitting on top of the covers?” 

 

Hanzo looked at him with a mildly annoyed frown. “You have the nerve to ask me that after you spun the idea of bedbugs all throughout my head?” 

 

McCree laughed at that as he settled himself further onto the bed, he was so close now he could smell the smoke on him. That faint scent that seemed to follow him like a haze mixing with the subtle tang of his cologne to create an aroma that was uniquely his own. Had he not had better control he would have buried his face in the crook of his neck, chasing that scent up the column of his throat and up to the line of his jaw. Instead, he just sat there looking mildly put upon as McCree asked: “You can face down crazy bounty hunters no problem, but it’s the idea of the bedbugs that’s got ‘ya shaking in your boots?”

 

“I am not shaking in my boots”, Hanzo groused “I merely do not want to wake up to an infestation.” 

 

“They could still crawl on ‘ya even if you are on top of the covers.”

 

Hanzo had considered that, but it was only with McCree’s confirmation that he seriously considered abandoning the bed altogether and spending yet another night on the floor. McCree must have seen some look in his eyes because within the next minute he said “You’ll be fine. We would’ve noticed the critters by now. Besides you don’t wanna mess up your back.”

 

Hanzo didn’t reply, instead, he settled himself down on the pillow as McCree gave him a quick smile before turning out the light. As the room was plunged into darkness he realized with a kind of belated nostalgia that the last time he had shared a bed with someone it had been his brother. The occasional fights and waking up to Genji kicking him in his sleep were now treasured memories instead of the nuisance they had been at the time. He put those thoughts aside as he laid out on his back in an attempt to get comfortable but still subtly trying to keep himself out of McCree’s space. He didn’t move as McCree situated himself on his side facing away from him. Hanzo was at once relieved and annoyed by that but knew he was being foolish as he placed his hands on his chest. “Goodnight Han”, McCree muttered sleepily. 

 

“Goodnight”, he answered back quietly, as he closed his eyes, not yet ready to face the suffocating silence of the room alone. He laid there for a good half hour, listening to the cars as they sped down the highway outside and McCree’s gentle breathing before somehow he drifted off into sleep. 

 

When he woke it was to the sound of McCree’s snoring and his own labored breathing. He had just come out of a nightmare, not nearly as bad this time but still no less disturbing as he had witnessed Genji’s dragon, still misshapen and gaunt battling and then devouring his own amidst a dark and storm ridden sky. But all thoughts of that ominous vision were immediately ripped from his mind as he looked over to see McCree’s face so close to his own, the hard angles of his face softened with sleep, his hand inexplicably on his waist. He let loose a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding fully ready to push him off. But couldn’t find the strength to do it, instead letting him linger there for several agonizing minutes. He sighed once, knowing all too well that if McCree were to wake up things between them would only grow awkward. So with trembling fingers and his heart hammering in his chest he reluctantly unwrapped himself from McCree’s hold, careful not to wake him and opened the door and walked outside. The cold night air seemed to instantly burn away any untoward thoughts he may have had, his mind suddenly clearer than he felt it had been all night. 

 

He looked out over the gleaming expanse of the city, the slow moving cars on far off roads, the pool down below lit by tiny lamps situated around its edges. He sighed heavily, leaning against the railing, the beat of his heart thundering in his ears. He wanted to go back in the room, wake McCree up, tell him that he was thinking of him. That as strange and absurd as it sounded he had the beginnings of a crush on him. It was foolish he knew, and admittedly he was unnerved every time McCree just uttered a simple phrase and he would feel his face grow warm. Baffled that he so easily pulled laughter out of him when it had seemed that after everything he had been through he would never laugh again. None of this was right. None of this should be happening. He didn’t deserve it. And yet here he was standing at the precipice of something like affection with no other desire than to run back into the room, pull McCree out of whatever dream he was having and kiss him. Run his hands down those broad shoulders, explore the expanse of his tattooed back. He wanted to examine every inch of him, reveal each part of his intimacy and familiarize himself with each angle, curve, and plane of his body until nothing had gone untouched. He shook his head, the whole thing sounded insane, they had only just met. But there was something about him, the way he so easily joked with him, the way he didn’t try to pry information out of him when he clearly didn’t wish to give it. His casual charm, the advice he so readily dispensed, the fact that he believed that Hanzo had the right to a good life despite what he had done. It was all those things and more that had him thoroughly interested. He closed his eyes for a moment before taking in a long sobering breath, desperately trying to toss those feelings aside. “This is a job and nothing more. Put your foolish imaginings aside and focus on the task at hand”, he told himself. “Besides, he would not want a murderer”, he thought bitterly as he was overcome with a feeling of anguish and longing so deep that it seemed to take root in his bones and became a physical pain that he felt throughout his entire body. After several moments of near hyperventilation, he was finally able to get his breathing back under control and he forced himself to pull away from the railing, still reeling with an inconsolable wave of despair. 

 

He was about to turn to shamble back into the room but he was instantly stopped by the unmistakable feeling of someone watching him. He quickly whipped around to see a man in a black suit, a briefcase in his hand, and the reptilian eyes of a dragon peeking over the collar of his shirt, its head spread over the expanse of his throat. It was too late. Within the next instant, all he knew was the roar of the dragon, its gaping maw heralded by razor sharp talons and blistering flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the people who left comments and kudos last chapter, it is always greatly appreciated. Sorry this chapter took so long to get out. But I've been busy with work and it looks like my schedule is going to be pretty busy for the next couple of months so I may have to update every 3 weeks instead of 2. Anyway, this was a pretty dialogue heavy chapter but next time we'll be getting into some more plot related stuff. As always thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first new fic after finishing Convalescence and my first attempt at writing a longer form McHanzo story. I’m hoping to get updates out every 2 weeks.


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